


Tangled Destiny

by Kiyoko_Michi



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Epic Friendship, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Spark Bonds, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 118,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyoko_Michi/pseuds/Kiyoko_Michi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate is a fickle thing. Sometimes, all it takes is a little push, and everything changes. Skyfire didn't crash in the storm- Starscream did. The war continues on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deviations

Starscream was laughing as they landed on the ice covered ground, sending up puffs of snow and ice chips to swirl around their frames. His excitement was infectious. It trickled across the bond in warm, playful waves, and Skyfire couldn’t help but smile back at him. The air currents that had taken them here were some of the roughest on the planet, and his engines were aching pleasantly from the flight. He didn’t share Starscream’s—all Seeker’s, really—obsession with testing himself against the elements, but he always enjoyed sharing the relaxed, pleasant vibes from his bondmate after flights like these

Skyfire glanced around the barren landmass they’d landed on. White surrounded them for as far as he could see, White snow, white hills, and even the grey sky above them was only a shade darker than the ground. There wasn’t much to study here, but Skyfire already found himself itching to find out what kind of organic organisms could survive in a climate like this.

They’d already gotten all the data they needed for their report from the rest of the planet, but Starscream had insisted on ending their journey here. Now, Skyfire suspected Starscream had just wanted to test himself against the unpredictable air currents.

“C’mon, Starscream,” Skyfire said. “We need to get some actual readings taken before we head out.”

The wind was, thankfully, dying down now, so he didn’t have to yell to be heard. As enjoyable as the air currents on this planet could be, Skyfire preferred a calmer environment while he worked. Not that the data mattered all that much now—this planet, while unbelievably rich in energy sources, was much too far away to be of any use to Cybertron. They were mapping out this planet so thoroughly to satisfy their own curiosity more than anything.

“Relax, Skyfire,” Starscream said, raising his hands over his head in a luxurious stretch. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Starscream indulged himself for a while longer before taking off in a random direction. Shaking his head, Skyfire meandered in his own direction, though he kept the bond wide open. As they worked, Skyfire was careful to keep his partner within sight. It was harder than it seemed. Starscream would often flit from place to place while he explored, gazing intently at whatever new marvel had caught his interest. On organic worlds like this one it was often worse. Starscream tended to get distracted by the miniature life around them. He'd never admit it, but the Seeker shared his fascination for organics.

A thread of annoyance twisted its way into the back of Skyfire's consciousness, and he let out a soft chuckle. Starscream. He'd grown accustomed to the constant thrum of the Seeker's spark in the back of his processer and the occasional, flitting emotion from his partner over the last few vorns. The hint of irritation didn't bother him. Honestly, the annoyance from the fickle Seeker was more amusing than anything. Starscream was probably frustrated by some harmless drop in the ice or snow in his intakes. It wouldn't be the first time.

Skyfire bent down to examine a fissure in the ice, absentmindedly noting the darkening clouds above them as he examined the untouched patterns of frost beneath. He idly bottled and sub-spaced a small sample, stumbling slightly to regain his balance as the snow shifted under his weight.

There was no warning before the storm hit.

It was nothing like the rough currents that had brought them there. Those winds had been harsh but predicable—a mesmerizing dance of air and power that nonetheless followed its own shifting patterns. The storm was different. It wasn’t a dance; it was a brawl. Unpredictably, uncontrollable, and so very, very dangerous.

The world shifted around him with unbelievable speed. One moment Skyfire was calmly studying the ice patterns, half his processer still occupied with the flutter of emotions coming from his partner, the next was chaos.

The grasping, violent hands of the wind hit him first. Already half unbalanced, Skyfire was thrown off his feet by the sudden blast of air. The wind caught on his outstretched wings, forcing him off the ground before he could even register the vicious change. He was thrown once, hard, against the ice before the gale forced his dented frame back up.

His vision dissolved into white flecks, audios filled with a muted roar of air as the blizzard consumed him. Sensors going haywire, Skyfire reached out for his partner. His com and navigational systems glitched from the crash, but their bond strengthened easily. Starscream's presence clicked reassuringly against his own.

Relief, fear, and frustration flooded the open connection. Skyfire sent a flash of concern and reassurance back at the feel of his presence. Starscream was still functioning, but he'd been caught as well and his lighter frame would make the grasping hands of the storm even more dangerous. Skyfire tried to control his frenzied flight path to follow the link to the Seeker, find a way to reach and protect the slighter mech, but the storm stole his sense of direction and barred any semblance of control over his frame.

With a wordless prayer to Primus, Skyfire activated his thrusters in the direction of what he hoped was the ground. The extra power let him break free of the dizzying currents and stabilize himself somewhat, but the chaotic swirl of sensations stubbornly refused to make sense. He could only face towards what he hoped was open air, mind still open to his bondmate's condition, and hope for the best.

Later, when he was calm enough to look back on the frenzied breems in the blizzard, he knew it was pure luck that got him out. Even with his thrusters working full force, the sheer, immovable force of the gale stole any sense of what he was doing. His optics were all but useless, and an unknown number of important systems had been jarred violently offline. There was only ice and wind and mindless, instinctual reaction. He was flying wildly, directionless.

Starscream was the only constant in the chaos. Skyfire clung to his bright presence of the Seeker as he struggled with the spinning world. The feel of his fury and determination was both a solid connection to center himself on as well as a reassurance that his partner was still online. He had no doubt that Starscream was in pain from the storm, possibly even damaged as he'd been, and blocking the feeling from the bond, but his spark still felt strong.

Then, almost worse than the wind, ice began jamming his joints. The white flecks burrowed their way into the cracks in his armor, robbing his systems of energy and mobility. A burst of heat from his thrusters melted some of the ice, and Skyfire hissed in pain as the freezing water caused his circuits to spark.

Almost as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Skyfire burst out of the ice flakes into jarringly clear gray skies, the wind's grip slacking into something he could wrestle control over. He was higher up than he'd expected- his wild flight had, thankfully, carried him into the skies instead of the ground.

The first thing he did was to send a pulse of relief at Starscream to let him know he'd found the edge of the storm. Acknowledgement and concentration filtered back to him, the bond opening further as the Seeker started trying to follow it out. Skyfire angled himself towards the faraway ground. He may have gained control of his flight, but the still-harsh winds jerked painfully against his wings, pulling at the already damaged metal. He was able to touch down a few moments later, the ice caving in slightly under the impact. It was a relief to have the near-solid ground under his feet again.

He stared worriedly at the direction Starscream was in, but the flecks of white in the air blocked his sight. Starscream was strong, but he couldn't help but worry about the lighter Seeker still trapped in the wind. There was nothing he could do to help him, and Skyfire hated being safe when his partner was still in danger. Going back into the storm would only get himself lost again; the best thing he could do was try to guide his bondmate to him and safety.

The dark emotions that flickered into his spark were both a blessing and a curse. They reassured him that Starscream was still aware, uninjured enough to feel the spiteful frustration and fury at the tempest. They also reminded him that his partner was in danger, struggling, and there was nothing he could do to help.

He jerked to attention as a flood of emotions suddenly choked the bond. Starscream's emotions started going haywire- anger, pain, even flat-out terror hit Skyfire like a blow. He immediately tried to send something back, to do _something_ , but Starscream didn't respond.

Then there was a blast of pure, utter panic from the Seeker that sent Skyfire's systems into overdrive, and- nothing. The bond went completely, terrifyingly silent. No emotion, no words, not even the familiar, constant hum of Starscream's spark against his own.

 _Nothing_.

For a moment, everything stopped as his processer locked up, refusing to process what the empty bond was telling him.

When he could think again, his first, panicked thought was that he needed to find Starscream. Now. He _needed_ to get his partner out of the storm and safe, fix whatever was blocking the bond (because there was no way he had actually deactivated. Not Starscream, not from some slagging _storm_ ). He nearly flung himself back into the chaos where he'd last felt the Seeker's presence before his logic center reasserted itself.

The chaos of the blizzard was still fresh in his memory. If he flew back into that without even a semblance of a plan, the probability of making it back out again unharmed was distressingly low. The probability of managing to find Starscream again, especially without the bond’s help, was nonexistent. And that was unacceptable.

If he wanted a chance of finding and repairing his partner, he would need to wait until it was calm enough to fly. To at least be able to _see_ where he was going. And much as his spark screamed at him to go immediately, he forced himself to follow his logic.  
Instead, Skyfire tried to reach out across the bond, to find anything that could lead him to Starscream. He tried to sense a hint of the other's presence, but there was only emptiness where there had once been emotion. Coldness instead of familiar spark-warmth. His systems faltered for the moment at the jarring absence, but Skyfire forced himself not to flinch away. He carefully probed the edges of their connection in search of something- some clue to his location or hint of his condition. But there was nothing.

And as the numbness started to recede from the bond, the broken edges where his spark had once melded seamlessly with Starscream's started sending out painful, torn signals. Skyfire let out a soft sound of pain and his hand automatically darted to his chest, but he couldn't soothe the ache in his spark.

He tried to access his navigational systems again to pinpoint his coordinates and have some way to identify where he'd landed in the unvarying land, but the system only came back with errors. He had no way of marking where he was or where he'd last seen Starscream. He would be flying blind, no matter what he did.

Skyfire couldn't go back into the storm, but that didn't stop him from moving. The wind was too strong to fly, so he paced laboriously along the outskirts of the blizzard, looking for some sign of Starscream's presence. His optics desperately scanned the impenetrable air, but no color broke up the constant white.

The storm had to be moving, shifting gradually away from where he'd first broken out, but he had no way of telling. The ground was too uniform, the snow too fluid, to measure any change in location. He tried to keep track of how far he'd moved, but he wasn't used to functioning without half his systems to guide him.

Even on the outskirts, the specks in the air made it impossible to see far. He could only pray that when the blizzard ended and visibility increased, he would be able to find the swell of the Seeker's frame along the flat background.

But when the air finally calmed, there was only white, unbroken snow.

-/-

Skyfire didn't know how long he searched.

Desperation drove him for the first cycles after the storm. A certainty that Starscream was injured, _fading_ , somewhere, and he only needed to find the Seeker and he could fix him, restore the connection. As the air continued to calm, he flew in ever widening circles, looking for some deviation in the ground that would lead him to where his partner had fallen.

There was no way to organize himself. The constant shifting of the snow obscured any signs mere kliks after they were made, and his navigational programs were useless. When flying failed, he tried to coordinate some sort of system on the ground. Starscream could easily have been buried by the snow, systems shutting down to contain the damage from whatever injuries he'd sustained.

Starscream was resilient. He could survive for a while in emergency stasis, even damaged and buried in ice. He'd just have to remain online long enough for Skyfire to find him. Skyfire would not even allow himself to consider how damaged Starscream would have to be to deaden the bond. (And Starscream was damaged, not deactivated, _never_ deactivated)

He used every scan he could think of to find any abnormality in the ice, but most of his diagnostics had been offlined from the storm, and he didn't have the knowledge to repair the delicate circuitry. He was stuck with only his optics and rudimentary systems he had to tweak from their original purpose just to work.

As cycles faded slowly, terribly into orns, a new problem came up.

The energon converter they'd been using was gone. Lost, somehow, during the storm. Skyfire didn't remember whether Starscream had been carrying it or it had been ripped from him during the blizzard, but it didn't matter. It was gone, and he had no way of synthesizing more energon. It meant that he had a time limit. Without fuel, there was only so much time he could spend searching before his frame gave out on him. Desperate, Skyfire doubled his efforts, but he still couldn't find a hint of the Seeker. As the solar cycles dragged on, his hope that he would find Starscream, unshakable in the beginning, began to fall away from him.

Time was measured only by the rare occasion that low energy levels forced him to find temporary shelter for recharge, and by his steadily dropping fuel levels. He'd long since turned off his chronometer, along with every other non-critical system he could spare to conserve energon. It wasn't enough.

The orns stretched on without success, and eventually, unavoidably, his energon levels went critical. And Starscream was still lost.

-/-

Skyfire stared despondently at the empty ice, the fuel level indicated flashing cruelly at the bottom of his HUD. Sixteen percent was left- the absolute minimum amount that would let him return to Cybertron. Any lower, and even if he did manage to find Starscream he wouldn't have the fuel left to bring him home.

If he stayed any longer, he would deactivate. There was no other option. No clever strategy to get around it, and he knew it. He needed to leave the planet if he wanted to survive.

Leaving meant abandoning Starscream.

Yet- his processer wouldn't let him delude himself anymore. He'd been searching for so many of this world's solar cycles without a sign of the Seeker. Starscream had a smaller fuel capacity than he did. Even if he had remained online after the crash, he would have deactivated from fuel depletion already. Skyfire's frame shuddered in spark-deep grief.

Starscream… Starscream was gone. The miniscule chance that Starscream had somehow survived whatever had torn apart their bond had dwindled with each passing solar cycle. He was searching for a cold frame, not a mech.

Was finding his frame really worth his own life?

Skyfire's spark cried out that it was. The part of him that refused to accept Starscream's deactivation without touching his empty frame demanded that he keep looking until he found the Seeker, no matter what. It insisted that Starscream didn't deserve to have his frame abandoned on some strange, alien planet.

But his processer disagreed. His logic center brought up the illogicality of Starscream's survival and the uselessness of staying here any longer. The irrationality of throwing his life away to find a broken frame. He'd be walking willingly to his own deactivation. No matter what his spark demanded. Starscream… Starscream wouldn’t want that.

So Skyfire turned away from the unfeeling ice where his partner was buried.

The path back to Cybertron was engrained in his processer as it was for every planetary explorer, part of his very code. It only took a klik to activate the sub-routes that would guide him home, a call so fundamental he didn't need his navigational systems active to follow.

The first few steps, knowing he was leaving his partner behind, were almost impossible. Agonizing, and Skyfire almost turned back, logic be slagged, instead of abandoning him. But his desire to live was too strong, and Skyfire kept moving.  
His thrusters activated, and the ground fell away from him in strips of white.

Maybe… maybe someday he'd be able to return. He could find a new expedition or gather funding to return some other vorn when he had the resources to bring Starscream's frame back home. Give the Seeker the honorable burial he deserved.

He laughed bitterly at the thought- the excuse to justify leaving the planet alone. Leaving was logical, was necessary, but that didn't mean he could comfort himself with useless platitudes. He was leaving Starscream behind. His partner had deactivated with only a wall of ice-filled air between them, and their bond would always remain silent and broken.

It would be a long, lonely journey back to Cybertron.

~.*.~


	2. Return to Cybertron

 Space was cold. Empty.

 Silent.

 Skyfire passed through the emptiness between galaxies and the darkness where no starlight reached. Where he’d once seen beauty and countless marvels to explore, there was now only unforgiving darkness and harsh light. Metacycles past in silence, and through it all he had nothing to do but think, and remember.

 Skyfire felt Starscream's absence like a blow. There was nobody to debate inconsequential theories or marvel at the scientific phenomena with. No banter to break up the monotony or bright, vivid pulses of emotions to warm his spark. There was only the unending silence of the far-flung cosmos, and the painful memories that rushed in to fill it.

 He had vorns of memories of the scientist to dwell on, from the unending persistence with which Starscream had pursued whatever caught his interest to the destructive fire of his anger. He had come to know the familiar idiosyncrasies of the mech in the close quarters of the lab and, later, the isolated vorns of the expedition. After they'd bonded… he'd known Starscream's very spark, the essence of his personality.

 Every glimpse of memory or thought ended with the same thing. Ice and wind and the horrible tearing in his spark.

 Eventually, Skyfire forced himself into stasis to escape the accusing images, uncaring of the inherent dangers in turning off his sensor net during flight. With Starscream gone, he couldn't bring himself to care about what would happen to him. Chance had determined only his escape from the alien planet, so he'd allow the same to guide him back to Cybertron. He drifted for countless metacycles, only vaguely aware of the passing time. So long as the memories were kept at bay, he didn't care. Only the pull of Cybertron kept him moving, drawing him inexorably forward even without conscious input. Skyfire didn't feel the pain as debris impacted his frame or notice how dangerously close he passed by the occasional black hole or burning sun.

 When he finally crashed back on Cybertron, he was near deactivation. With his conscious mind buried deep within his processer, he didn't notice the chaos of his arrival or the brief panic his uncontrolled landing caused when he collided with the surface. He didn't feel their attempts to contact him from orbit or the hands on him after he landed, pulling him out and carrying him away.

 The first thing he was aware of was a strange mech, the familiar marks of a medic adorning his frame, standing over him. The sounds of an active med-bay filtered through to him, and Skyfire could feel the strain in his processer that indicated a medically induced retrieval from stasis. The rest of his frame was numb, and his sensor net was completely offline.

 He was back. The thought brought no relief to his processer or, really, any emotion at all. It was simply a fact. He had survived the journey, and luck had, once again, kept him online. He was here, safe and whole, while Starscream was still back on that uninhabited planet.

 "What's your designation, Shuttle?" the medic asked softly. His arms were down in a familiar, peaceable sign and his armor was loose in an unthreatening gesture, but that couldn't hide the caution in his optics. The mech obviously expected him to be confused, maybe even violent as he awoke. Skyfire tried to move his hand and wasn't surprised when the limb refused to move. Of course they'd offlined his motor controls. It was the logical thing to do with an unfamiliar, possibly unstable patient.

 Skyfire had no desire to speak to the stranger, but it would be rude not to respond. "S-skyfire," he croaked, surprised by how harsh his vocalizer was from its long disuse. "Ex-pedition. I-Iacon."

 The mech nodded calmly. "Thank you, Skyfire." Movement flickered in the corner of his vision--a second mech, barely a blur of color, rushing away. Skyfire laid there unmoving, staring blankly at the ceiling and ignoring the movement of the medic and other mechs around him as he waited for something to happen.

 A touch to his arm, barely a light pressure on his numb sensor net, brought him back breems later. The medic was staring at him again with concern written clearly on his face. "You're registered as having a partner," he prompted. "What happened to him?"

 Skyfire shuttered his optics in pain at the reminder. The question, innocent as it had been meant, hit him like an accusation. His partner hadn't returned from the expedition with him. Primus… he'd need to explain what had happened to him. Maybe not now, but the Academy, the Enforcers- they'd demand an explanation for the missing mech. And Skyfire would tell them everything. Starscream deserved that much, at least.

 "Crashed," he whispered painfully. "There was- storm. I couldn't- couldn't find him." Skyfire couldn't bring himself to say anything else, and even that sent a pained shudder through his frame.

 He onlined his optics at the feel of the medic's hand against his shoulder. The mech was still there, optics dimmed in sympathetic sadness. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said simply.

 Unfamiliar anger rushed through Skyfire at the platitude- an ugly, unpleasant feeling. The medic had never known Starscream. He would not grieve the loss of his bonded in any way other than this shallow façade of empathy. Would never meet the contrary, paradoxical Seeker, with his bristly personality, cutting temper, yet insatiable thirst for knowledge and fierce loyalty to whomever he deemed worthy.

 To him, Starscream was just another nameless, deactivated mech. Worthy of pity, but ultimately forgettable.

 Skyfire didn't answer the medic, repressing any sign of his brief fury, and the mech soon moved out of his field of vision. He occasionally heard the light murmur of conversation beside him, but he didn't bother even trying to listen to whoever was speaking. Eventually, he felt a light, clinical pressure on his neck, and Skyfire fell gratefully back into unconsciousness.

-/-

 Skyfire stayed under the medic's care for a long time.

 After the first time he was onlined to identify himself, Skyfire remained in near-stasis as the medics brought basic systems back online and began fixing near-critical damage. His consciousness floated without thought, neither aware nor concerned for his frame, and for a time he was held in a delicate, numb sort of peacefulness.

 The only other time he was brought prematurely out of stasis was when a member from the Iacon Academy came looking for information. It was easier to speak with them than he'd anticipated- they spoke in facts and numbers, and Skyfire emotionlessly transferred to him all the star charts and careful documentation the two of them had taken for the unexplored planets.

 He still had to repress the occasional memory surge of how Starscream had worked with him to discover these answers, but it grew easier to push the images away and the mech waited patiently for him whenever he lost control. He'd, thankfully, already been informed about the loss of his partner on the trip and was unexpectedly tactful at the situation.

 Skyfire made sure the mech recorded Starscream's part in the discoveries. Starscream had always been paranoid that somebody would steal his work- that he would be forgotten, cast aside after his deactivation. It was a remnant of his time before the Academy, when he had been just one of many faceless warrior-frames expected to enter the War Academy.

 Skyfire refused to let that happen.

 The scientist left as soon as they finished, with a reassurance that the Academy labs would remain open to him after he recovered. Skyfire didn't bother answering. Without his partner working beside him, he wasn't sure if he would be able to take them up on the offer.

 Eventually, Skyfire was healed enough that he was taken out of stasis permanently. He was still significantly damaged, as the medics often pointed out. His long drift in space, both the degradation from so long in stasis and the mindless collisions, had severely damaged both major and minor systems and circuitry. Thankfully, the situation prevented the medics from reprimanding him much on his decision to put himself into stasis.

 Fully aware of his surroundings again, he had little to distract him from his loss.

 The broken bond was a constant, horrible reminder of the Seeker. His spark ached with emptiness that flared into sharp pain whenever he ventured near the hole where Starscream used to be, but he couldn't stop himself from touching the shattered bond whenever his thoughts were drawn back to the Seeker, which was often.

 He spent cycles feeling painfully along the remnants of the bond for anything of Starscream that still remained. Sometimes, he could almost imagine he could feel some echo of his spark left in the bond, a whisper of warmth in the emptiness. He prayed for even the illusion of his presence, despite knowing how impossible it was for him to actually feel Starscream again.

 Even when he wasn't deliberately touching the bond, he could never forget its absence. Over the vorns of exploration, using the bond to check on his partner's condition had become automatic. He still instinctually sent the queries and system pings that had once saved their lives, but now only met the frigid nothingness.

 His spark cried out for its match, for the bright, warm pulses of another's spark, but there was nothing he could do.

 Starscream had been  _everything._ His partner, his friend, his  _bonded._ For so many vorns, his life had revolved around only the Seeker and their work. His Creators were long since deactivated, and there was no other he'd considered close. He had been a solitary mech, by nature and by choice, and had easily faded into the background of life at the Academy.

 Starscream had been the only exception. He'd been his opposite in so many ways- passionate, temperamental, erratic- but he had  _fit_ into Skyfire's life. He'd forced his way into his life and experiments, carving out his own niche in the scientist's life until he couldn't imagine an existence without him.

 Now he was alone.

 -/-

 It was orns before one of the medics came to him with news that there were two mecha that wanted to see him. He didn't need to hear their designations to know who they were and why they'd come.

 He'd been waiting for their arrival ever since he onlined, dreading when he'd finally be forced to confront them. Even with orns to prepare for the meeting and try to find some way to tell them, Skyfire had no idea how he was going to face his partner's old Trine.

 He had only met the two Seekers a handful of times on the rare occasions they'd come to Iacon to visit Starscream. He'd known far more about them from Starscream, who'd spoken fondly of their trinebond, and the occasional echoes of their sparks that had leaked through his own bond with the Seeker. What little he knew was based on the facts that they were both military, extraordinarily talented, and had been a Trine for a very, very long time.

 For a Seeker, Trine was everything. From the first weak echoes of a bond with their Creators to the full-fledged spark bonds of an adult Trine, they were never without a wingmate against their spark. Losing a Trinemate was considered one of the worst tragedies that could befall them, and few remained sane on the rare occasions that both their wingmates were deactivated. A broken Trine rarely took another Seeker to fly with them, let alone into their bond. It was a precious, near sacred thing.

 Now, he would have to explain to Skywarp and Thundercracker how he'd let their trinemate deactivate.

 Much as he desperately wanted to avoid speaking with them, they deserved to hear what had happened to Starscream directly from him. He respected their connection to Starscream at least that much. So when the door whispered smoothly open to admit their somber forms, he met their gaze as evenly as he could.

 His first thought was that they looked… weary. Half broken by the abrupt destruction of the spark bond much the way he still was. They stood pressed each other, visibly taking comfort from their remaining Trinemate’s presence in the wake of their loss. Their wings sagged carelessly along their chassis in a clear announcement of their sorrow to anyone with the barest knowledge about wing-language. If he looked, he could even see where their chassis were still dim and scuffed from the long trip from Vos to Iacon. They hadn't even taken the time to polish themselves before rushing to the hospital.

 Despite their obvious grief, both mecha stood tall, almost composed as they entered. Even in their mourning they were by no means weak, and Skyfire found his respect for the two Seekers grow at how they could hold themselves together so well when he could still barely force himself to function alone.

 For a moment, they looked at each other wordlessly, neither willing to break the fragile silence separating them. As he waited, Skyfire couldn't help but notice just how similar in appearance the two were to Starscream. They had the same build, same bright crimson optics, even similar color patterns. He'd known they were of the same model type, but it was still an aching reminder of what he'd lost.

 Skywarp was the first to speak, ending the shared hesitation. "So he's dead," he said blankly, vocals wavering almost imperceptivity and dulled optics just barely meeting his own. It was more a statement than question. They would have felt his death through their Trine bond as surely as he had.

 "Yes," he confirmed hoarsely, and the word seemed to almost echo in the deathly silent room.

 Skywarp let out a wavering, involuntary keen of pain that he quickly silenced, and his optics darkened as he attempted to regain his tenuous control over himself. Thundercracker immediately shifted closer to his remaining Trinemate and brushed a comforting hand against his wing with a sorrowful hum of sound. When he turned back to the Shuttle, his emotions were barely under control. "How did it happen?" he asked quietly.

 Skyfire could feel his entire chassis tense, the clatter of armor deafeningly loud in the near noiseless room, at the question he'd been dreading. He'd finally be forced to put Starscream's deactivation into words, label it in a way that seemed so pitifully inadequate to describe what had happened.

 He wouldn't make any excuses for his inability to save his partner. Not to his Trine, and not to anyone else. He would willingly accept whatever punishment they chose for his failure.

 So Skyfire explained everything. Haltingly, hesitantly, he began explaining how the two of them had found the bright planet. He described their arrival and initial luck, and their final, fatal decision to search the planet's artic poles. Then he told them of the storm. How it had scrambled their systems and torn them apart without warning. How he had barely managed to make it before the bond snapped, and the long, futile search that had followed.

 The two Seekers were silent. They didn't say a word while Skyfire stumbled through his explanation, and the room lapsed into silence again when he finished. Skyfire bowed his head and offlined his optics, half-expecting them to attack him. To condemn him for leaving their Trinemate behind, letting them get separated, choosing to bring Starscream with him in the first place… He braced himself to hear from them what he already knew for himself.

 But they didn't.

 Without his optics, Skyfire didn't even notice the two Seekers getting closer. The hand on his shoulder was so unexpected Skyfire almost jerked away instinctively when his sensor net registered the touch. He onlined his optics to see Skywarp standing almost directly beside him, optics still glimmering with renewed grief. Thundercracker stood silently next to him.

 For a long moment, Thundercracker just stared at him silently, thoughtfully. Finally, he inclined his head briefly. "Thank you."

 Skyfire jerked up, optics flaring slightly as he processed the statement. Neither of them reacted to the sudden movement. " _Thank you?_ " Skyfire repeated in incomprehension. "What? But why would- I'm the one that got him  _deactivated._ Why would you  _thank_ me?"

 "For telling us," Skywarp answered. His vocalizer was still soft with grief. "Letting us know what happened to him. When we felt the Bond-" he shuddered in emotion and his vocalizer snapped offline to prevent another pained sound from dragging him back under. The hand still on his shoulder tightened, and Skyfire could feel the small tremble as it passed through the Seeker's frame.

 Thundercracker took over when Skywarp couldn't continue. "We thought we would never know where he was or what had deactivated him. You gave us that."

 Skyfire could only stare at them in utter disbelief. It… couldn't be that simple. It just didn't make  _sense._ They were supposed to blame him, curse his name for surviving when Starscream hadn't, blame him for leaving him behind. That was what he'd expected, what he'd been prepared for. Not this- completely undeserved  _absolution._

 "I should have saved him." The words fell from his lips in a veritable flood of guilt. "I was  _right there._ We  _knew_  the atmosphere was unpredictable- I should have been closer to him. If I'd only been closer,  _faster_ I could've-" His voice dissolved into static, and Skyfire bowed his head in pained silence at the admission.

 His systems nearly stalled in shock when a hand rested gently along his wing before uncertainly brushing against him in a half-familiar, comforting pattern. When Skyfire didn't immediately throw him off, the gentle strokes became firmer. Skyfire could only stare in astonishment as Skywarp offered him,  _him,_  who they barely knew and had just confessed his guilt in their Trinemate's deactivation, the most intimate form of comfort between Seekers.

 To a Seeker, their wings were their lives. Their city, their culture, their very existence revolved around their flight. Touching another's wings in any form was almost solely reserved for Trine or mecha that had proven themselves trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt. To offer such a gesture to a mech they barely knew, no matter how close he'd been to their third Trinemate, was unheard of. Unmistakable.

 That gesture of familiarity and trust, far more than anything else Skywarp could have possibly done, spoke volumes of his honest reaction. And despite his incomprehension at the Seekers' response and the inescapable guilt, Skyfire finally began to relax. Tense hydraulics loosened and the rigid set of his wings relaxed ever so slightly.

 Even as he began to speak, Skywarp didn't stop the consoling motion. "Starscream wouldn't want this. Not from any of us," he said quietly. His voice stuttered at the name, and a second tremor passed onto Skyfire's chassis. Unexpectedly, Skywarp gave him a small, wavering smile. "Slag, he'd probably kick your aft for thinking you had to take care of him."

 Skyfire voiced a humorless laugh that was more a sob, but he half leaned into the gentle, soothing caresses to his wings. He was left to consider what they'd told him in silence, and only the quiet rasp of metal on metal was heard.

 Skywarp's comment, brief as it had been, had meant more than the dozens of generic platitudes he'd heard since onlining. Unlike all the other mecha who'd never so much as seen Starscream, Skywarp was  _right._  Starscream, prideful, independent mech that he had been, would have been infuriated at the thought that he was somehow less capable than his partner. If he was here, he would be pointing out how it had ben luck, not skill, that had gotten him out, and how he'd had just as much a chance of escaping as Skyfire did. In fact, Starscream would have probably called his guilt self-indulgent arrogance mixed with the delusion that he was a better flyer than the Seeker. He'd have seen it as an insult to his pride and skill.

 Starscream… wouldn't have blamed him.

 Even after that revelation, the guilt hadn't lessened. He had still left Starscream behind, had been unable to find his frame, had, even with his more advanced sensors, been too distracted to notice the coming storm. Yet, though the guilt was still there, it was more bearable. Duller, or at least not quite as all-consuming.

 As Skyfire, for the first time, mourned Starscream with the two others who truly understood what he'd lost, he felt that, maybe, that small relief was enough.

~.*.~


	3. Embers

Skyfire stared up at the imposing marble pillars of the academy entrance.  The Iacon Science Academy took up a full block of the city and stretched high above his helm. Intricate carvings decorated the walls of the entrance hall in an ostentatious display as mecha of all shapes and colors bustled across the open floor. The crowd parted around Skyfire’s frame as he moved forward.

Being back here was strange. It had been vorns since he’d last been in these Halls, but the Academy didn’t seem to have changed at all, down to the delivery drones swerving above their helms. The Academy had invited him to resume his previous position, and Skyfire had accepted. It had seemed the right thing to do.

He walked through the Academy halls in a haze, blindly allowing his feet to carry him down familiar twists and turn. Optics followed his frame and whispers sprouted up around him, but Skyfire barely noticed. He didn’t register much of anything from the moment he entered the building until he found himself standing in front of a familiar set of blast doors deep inside the building. Their old labs. Only his, now.

His hand trembled as he reached towards the keypad. The passcode hadn’t changed in his absence, and the door glided easily open. He froze in the entryway, and his spark lurched in pain. The lab looked exactly like it had when they’d last left it, from the neat lines of glassware on the counters to the stocked supply closets behind them. He stumbled inside, allowing the doors to hiss closed behind him, but couldn’t force himself to move any further.

He’d come here because… He wasn’t sure why. Because he had nowhere else to go. He’d been thoroughly sick of the sterile walls of the hospital, and returning here had seemed his only other option. The labs were at least familiar. Here, at least, he could try to pick up the pieces of his old life instead of endlessly dwelling on what he’d lost. Now that he was actually here, he was starting to regret his decision. The air in here was cluttered with old memories. They were an almost physical presence weighing down his wings and bowing his shoulders. He’d met Starscream for the first time in this room. They’d trained and fought and experimented here for dozens of vorns, and the room had never been silent with his bondmate around.

If he offlined his optics, he could almost pretend that Starscream was still there, rummaging through the chemicals and picking up glassware. He reached out, running a hand along the pitted surface of a table. Shallow divots marked where droplets of acid had eaten away at the steel and heat-warped metal distorted the surface.  

Skyfire clenched his fist and lifted it from the metal, onlining his optics as he moved. He should get to work. He picked an old, unfinished project file at random from his memory banks and opened it. It only took a moment to remind himself of the experiment. Then he grabbed a beaker, intending to get started, and froze, staring into the empty glass. It felt wrong. Starscream was supposed to be here beside him, filling the silence with theories and observations and every stay thought that passed through his processer. He hadn’t worked on his own since before he’d met the Seeker.

The glass thunked as he lowered it to the counter again, and Skyfire had the sudden, overwhelming desire to just leave. There were too many ghosts here. Too many reminders and sensory echoes everywhere he turned. He couldn’t focus, could barely even _think,_ and he could feel himself panicking but he couldn’t-

 “Interesting place ya got here,” a strange voice said behind him. Skyfire’s hands clenched on the beaker, nearly shattering the thin glass, and he spun around.

Skywarp stood only a few steps behind him, casually inspecting an empty vial. The sight was so far outside Skyfire’s expectations that he could only stand there, gaping, as Skywarp set the vial back down on the table and grabbed a seat on a nearby chair.

“How did you get in here?” Skyfire asked. His spark calmed as his processer focused on the new problem, and he latched onto the distraction desperately. The labs were strictly monitored. Nobody without official access should have been able to get inside, let alone a warframe like a Seeker.

Skywarp shrugged, sprawling comfortably on the chair. “I ‘warped. I tend to do that,” he said. His optics darted around the room as Skyfire stood there speechlessly. The silence stretched on until Skywarp, fingers twitching uneasily, continued. “’S a nice place,” he said, glancing around. His optics lingered along the workbench “It’s weird, being back here again. Sta-” he stuttered, swallowed, and continued. “Starscream brought us here a coupla times when we visited Iacon. He was… happy here. Happier here than he’d been back in Vos, anyway.”  

The mention of Starscream sent a sharp pang through Skyfire’s chest, which worsened as he inevitably brushed the cold, empty bond again. He latched onto the less painful thing Skywarp had mentioned instead. “I never saw you here,” Skyfire said.

Skywarp just shrugged. His wings had started twitching, though he tried valiantly to still them. “Nah. You wouldn’t have. Starscream likes… _liked_ to keep things separate. It freaked him out him when stuff from Vos and stuff here collided. TC and I were the only exception, and he still ge- _got_ all flustered when we hung around here too long.”

 “He was a private mech,” Skyfire agreed. His voice was hoarse, and he quickly turned away. The beaker was still sitting on the counter where he’d left it, and he picked it up again. The solvents he needed were in the nearby cabinets, and walking over to get them was a welcome diversion.  

As he worked, he kept waiting for Skywarp to say something else or reveal the purpose of his visit, but nothing happened. Skywarp seemed perfectly content to just sit there, watching him work. Finally, Skyfire’s curiosity got the better of him.

He set the reaction mixture back down to settle then turned back to face the Seeker. “Skywarp, why are you here?” he asked. It came out slightly more accusatory than he’d intended.

Skywarp flinched, wings dipping. “I heard you got released from the medics. Figured you’d come ‘round here.” His optics darted towards the door. “I can go, if you-”

 “No! No, it’s fine,” Skyfire quickly countered. “I just… wasn’t expecting you.” He looked around at the empty room. “I think I could use the company.” If Skywarp really was here just to check on him… He didn’t understand it, but he wouldn’t turn him away.

Skywarp smiled—a small, soft quirk of his lips that seemed strange on his face. Back on the table, the solution had started to precipitate, signaling the start of the next step. Skyfire quickly picked it back up and continued on. Even though he could still feel Skywarp’s optics on his back, it wasn’t nearly as discomforting this time.

 “Where’s Thundercracker?” he asked as he got started on the next sample. This soon after their loss, he wouldn’t have expected to see the two Seekers further than ten feet away from each other.

 “He’s still in the rooms. Today was a bad day.”

 That only made his confusion worse, but Skyfire didn’t press the subject. He knew what bad days were like. Although… “Are you sure he should be alone?” he asked. Broken bonds could be dangerous, and the presence of his remaining Trinemate would surely help.

 “Probably not,” Skywarp admitted. His wings fluttered with worry for a moment before steadying in determination. “But neither should you. TC will be fine for a couple a cycles.”

 A comfortable silence fell. Skyfire continued working but, as he turned towards the storage cabinet for more materials, he faltered. Hesitantly, he turned his head back towards Skywarp, who was still watching him with curious optics. “Could you just… talk?” Skyfire asked, stumbling slightly in embarrassment.

Skywarp tilted his head and asked, “About what?”

“Something. Anything. It’s too quiet in here.”

Understanding dimmed his optics, and Skywarp nodded. Then he started to talk. The words came hesitantly at first as Skywarp stumbled through a stilted description of the air currents around Iacon. That transitioned into a description about Vos, and Skywarp’s voice soon evened out into a steady flow of sound. The words faded into the background as Skyfire started to work

Skywarp finally left cycles later, undoubtedly returning to his Trinemate’s side. The sound of his voice lingered in the air long after he left, leaving Skyfire at least one untainted memory to hold up against the others in the room.

-/-

 When Skyfire returned to work the next cycle, Skywarp wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. He had his own life with Thundercracker, and they would undoubtedly be returning to Vos soon. He still, foolishly, spent the entire orn half expecting to hear Skywarp’s voice behind him. Even without Skywarp’s presence, Skyfire managed to make it through the shift. And the next one. Eventually, he managed to fall into a rhythm. He buried himself in numbers and statistics until there wasn’t any room for thoughts or guilt while he worked. He and Starscream had once made a name for themselves through their revolutionary theories, but, alone, Skyfire only performed the standard experiments the Council ordered. It was easier that way.

Other scientists stopped by every so often—mecha he’d spoken and worked with before—but their presence always rang false and their condolences even more so. The few casual friendships he’d once cultivated had faded over his long absence until the mecha seemed to be strangers now. He was willing to acknowledge their feigned sympathy and nothing more. Death had made them polite, but Skyfire was under no illusions about what the others had really thought of his bondmate.

If Skyfire had cultivated allies, then Starscream had reveled in making enemies. The Seeker had been the only Warframe and one of very few flyers to be accepted into the Academy. It hadn’t taken much to scandalize their peers, and Starscream had enjoyed making them squirm.  He’d never cared one iota about their opinion. Skyfire had always admired that about him.

Sometimes, Skyfire’s spark would ache. Throbbing, painful ripples that centered on the broken bond and radiated outwards. In the beginning, they were an almost constant ebb and flow of pain, impossible to ignore but expected. Starscream's deactivation had damaged his very spark, and spark injuries never truly disappeared. His spark slowly numbed to the pain of the broken bond, though the sense of isolation never left.

Still, it was bearable. He had almost begun to get used to being alone in his mind again when the first spark glitch hit him.

Skyfire was thrust violently out of recharge by an abrupt, all-consuming pain in his chest, far worse than anything he'd felt since the bond had first been broken. A sudden, searing cold infused his frame, and he could only gasp helplessly as he shuddered on the berth. The sudden agony left no room for thought or confusion, only a primal awareness of the crushing pain. It seemed to center in the tattered bond in his chest, and for a moment he thought his very spark would sputter out under the weight of the ice.

He couldn't even access his ‘coms to call for help. His systems had been scrambled by whatever had happened, caught between the conflicting signals from his spark and processer. All he could do was endure and wait for something to give.

Eventually, almost unexpectedly, the frozen pain began to recede. Feeling crept back into his limbs, chasing the ice out of his systems. His spark was the last to return. Skyfire stayed curled around the agonizing ice in his chest long after the rest of his frame had recovered, futilely trying to force some heat back into it until even that began improving. Even then his spark continued to send out brief, irregular signals of pain in aching waves.

For the rest of the recharge cycle, Skyfire lay unmoving on the berth. Unwilling to acknowledge what had happened, he kept his mind forcibly blank as he focused only on making it through the lingering pangs as morning slowly approached.

The next morning, he didn't go to a medic. He didn't even consider it. After all, much as he would like to deny the knowledge, he knew what had caused the episode, and there was nothing a medic could do to fix it.

The bond.  _Starscream_.

He didn't know exactly why it had happened, but there was no denying the cause. Even if the pain in his spark's broken bond hadn't clued him in, the frozen sensation so similar to that horrible storm would have done it. The pain might have been some lingering connection to his bondmate's frame or an echo of his deactivation. Either way, there was nothing that could be done about it. A small part of him even thought it rather fitting that he'd experience the pain of his partner's deactivation in some small penance for leaving him behind.

So he got up the next morning and, ignoring the occasional, lingering flares of frozen pain in his spark, carried on as if nothing had happened. He returned to his lab, let the orns lapse back into monotony, and tried not to think about what had happened. He almost succeeded.

Then it happened again.

This time he was in his lab when the blinding pain in his spark returned. The same crippling, frozen agony hit him, and he fell to his knees as his control over his frame gave out. It lasted for endless breems before, leaving him trembling unsteadily against the floor. When the pain finally faded enough for him to think again, he probed along the bond itself for an answer. The bond was open, far more than it had been since Starscream's deactivation, but he couldn't feel anything past that. The sensations dissolved into an impenetrable, frozen wall that made his spark ache at its touch. With a shudder, Skyfire backed away and threw up his mental shields again.

Then Skyfire stood up, cleaned up the broken glass and solvent that had fallen to the ground when he collapsed, and returned to work.

-/-

An orn later, Skyfire received a ‘com request from a number he only vaguely recognized. He had to unarchive some old memory files to discover that the identification number belonged to Thundercracker. Confused, Skyfire accepted the call. He only grew more confused as Thundercracker gave him a rather formal request to meet with him and Skywarp at a walkway near Skyfire's residence building. Skyfire accepted despite his uncertainty.

The two looked decidedly out of place in the grounded walkways of Iacon. They were the only other flightframes in sight and stood taller than almost everyone around them. Skywarp’s face lit up as he caught sight of Skywarp. Thundercracker’s reaction was more reserved, though not unfriendly. Thundercracker looked worse than his trinemate. His plating was slightly scuffed from neglect, and his wings hung slightly too low on his back to be normal. His optics were bright, though, and determination hung around him like a shield.

As Skyfire approached, he noticed that the two’s wings were twitching in the achingly familiar way that Starscream's always had when he was uncertain but too proud to show it any other way. Skyfire half expected them to bolt immediately, maybe after some awkward excuse for their meeting. He wouldn’t have blamed them.

Instead, both Seekers stood their ground as he approached. Thundercracker even stepped forward to meet him. "Skyfire," he greeted. "It's a pleasure to see you."

Then the Seeker gave his Trinemate little nudge, and Skywarp opened his mouth. "I... wanna apologize about 'warping into your lab. I shouldn't a done it without your permission."

The apology was obviously prompted by Thundercracker-Skywarp hadn't even seemed to realize that could’ve been a problem the previous orn--but the flighty Seeker seemed sincere regardless. "It's alright," Skyfire said. "I enjoyed the company."

Skywarp's face lit up in relief, and a grin spread across his face. Thundercracker's frame loosened slightly, though he remained stiff. Skyfire had the sudden urge to fix that.

"There's a small park a short walk away. Would you like to walk there?" he impulsively asked. He didn't suggest flying over, though that would have been faster. To Seekers, flying together was a very intimate thing. He hasn't known them nearly long enough for that.

Skywarp agreed enthusiastically, and he even earned a small smile from Thundercracker. As they walked, Skywarp keeps up a steady chatter. Thundercracker spoke sparingly, and Skyfire only had to listen and occasionally chime in to keep the conversation alive. By the time they reached the small, cultivated grounds of the park, Skyfire felt more comfortable voicing his own thoughts, and the conversation flowed to more interesting topics.

Starscream’s absence lingered between them, unforgettable and intrusive. They ignored it; the wounds were still too raw to share yet, and Skyfire didn’t know the other two well enough to pour his spark out to them. It was oddly reassuring though, knowing they were there.

The cycles passed quickly, and soon enough the night cycle began darkening the sky.

"Would you be willing to meet with us again next on?" Thundercracker asked.

Caught by surprise, Skyfire didn't immediately answer. His processed immediately filled with questions and doubts, but he didn’t let himself overthink it. "I would be honored," he said honestly.

He earned one of Thundercracker’s rare smiles with that, and Skywarp seemed barely able to contain his glee. They parted ways soon after, and Skyfire made the short flight back to his quarters alone. As he flew, Skyfire realized their visits had been the only social interaction he’d actually enjoyed since his return. It was a strange thought. Not unpleasant, but odd.

          -/-

The two Seekers continued their erratic visits. It was a strange but welcome interruption from the monotonous grind of his daily life, and he found himself craving their company. It had been too long since he’d had a good conversation partner. Or anyone he could talk to, really.

This time, when the two Seekers arrived, something seemed off. He couldn’t place what, but the Seekers seemed slightly different today, just enough to pique Skyfire’s worry. Their nervousness, which had entirely disappeared after the second gathering, suddenly reappeared. They shared sly, darting glances when they thought Skyfire wasn’t looking. They tried to carry on a normal conversation, but it didn't quite work.

 Frowning, Skyfire thought back. Easily a dozen orns had passed since the two Seekers first came to see him. It was barely any time for their species, but the two were only visiting Iacon. They still had responsibilities waiting for them back in their hometown. Their leave had to be running out.

So the next time the conversation lulled, Skyfire asked, “When are you going back to Vos?”

 The question visibly started the two Seekers, and they looked at each other silently, wings flicking and expression shifting minutely as they spoke through their trinebond.

 “We leave Iacon in an orn,” Thundercracker admitted.

So soon… Skyfire nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t speak. He didn’t trust his vocalizer yet. He’d known they needed to return home, but an orn... They must have come to say goodbye. The thought troubled him more than it should.  He had no claim to the two Seeker’s time. He barely even knew them, after all, but the thought of their absence still sent a pang through his spark.

 Skywarp must have seen something in his face, because he quickly interjected. “We won’t be gone for long though! I can ‘warp, remember? Plus I work as an Intel courier now—I travel all across Cybertron. He smiled reassuringly. “Trust me—you’re not getting rid of us that easily!”

 Skyfire answered Skywarp’s grin with a smile of his own, but his processer was still conflicted. He glanced between the two Seekers, noting how oddly earnest they seemed. “I don’t understand,” Skyfire admitted. “Why are you doing this? You’re under no obligation to come here. You have your own lives in Vos, so why…”

 Neither Seeker answered him immediately. Good. He wanted a real answer, not empty platitudes. A silent conversation passed between the two of them. Skyfire waited patiently.

 “Starscream saw something in you,” Skywarp finally said. “He liked you, and he didn’t like many mecha. I figured you’d be worth getting to know.” He smiled. “And I was right. I can already tell I’m gonna really like you.”

Skyfire hesitantly returned the smile, flattered but uncertain how to respond. He was grateful to the Seekers. He’d only known them for a short while, but there was potential there.  He wasn’t sure how to put it in words, so he simply said, “Thank you” 

“You don’t need to thank us,” Thundercracker said. “We’re doing this because we want to.”         

  Embarrassed, Skyfire turned the conversation to different topics, but a soft, pleased glow warmed his spark for cycles. They stayed long into the night cycle, but eventually the two Seekers had to leave. Trepidation coiled in Skyfire’s spark as he watched their frames disappear. No matter what they’d said, they were leaving Iacon. He’d never trusted easily—not for important things. Yet, as Skyfire turned back inside, he hesitantly allowed himself to hope.

-/-

They came back. It took a quarter vorn—one scattered with sporadic ‘com conversations—but they arrived on his doorstep, looking exactly the same as they last time he’d seen them. He welcomed them inside, and that was that.

As time continued to pass, Skyfire grew used to their semi-regular visits, and he even began to look forward to them. They migrated from the energon bar to quieter parts of Iacon, and, eventually, he allowed them into his flat as well. He was honored the first time they invited him to fly with them, something Seekers rarely did outside their frame type.

Sometimes they spoke of Starscream,. On those days, they would often reminisce on his character and memories, both the good and the bad. After so long surrounded by mecha who'd barely known the Seeker, it was a relief to talk to someone honestly about his bonded. Someone who wouldn't desperately avoid the subject or ignorantly idealize him, and Skyfire thanked Primus for the chance to talk to someone who actually understood his loss _._

Other cycles, they would speak of less painful things. The Seekers were nothing like him, or even like Starscream had been. Skyfire was a scientist, a pacifist even, and Starscream, with his volatile personality and pride, had ultimately rejected his frametype's traditionally military mindset. Skywarp and Thundercracker were different. They were both primarily military, and that mentality often colored their opinions, creating a fascinating contrast with what he was used to.

Slowly, Skyfire grew to know the two Seekers, and he began to understand why they and Starscream had chosen each other. As time dulled the strength of their grief, more and more of their personalities reemerged.

Though he began to crave the simple cheerfulness Skywarp carried with him, Skyfire had far more in common with his other trinemate. Thundercracker was calm, resilient, and, above all, insightful. He paid attention to everything around him and was instinctively able to temper the more outlandish ideas of his wingmate. He would have been the perfect balance for Skywarp's occasionally shortsighted spontaneity and Starscream's mercurial personality, while Skywarp would have lightened Starscream’s calm cynicism. As for Starscream… he would have been the catalyst. The ambition and intelligence that drove the Trine onwards.

There was always a hole beside them- the unspoken, unforgettable absence of the Seeker that had balanced their personalities. But even as the hole would never disappear, it began to dim. Skyfire could see a Seeker approaching and think  _Thundercracker_ or _Skywarp_ instead of automatically picturing his lost partner– could actually think about Starscream again without the pain.

He hadn't realized how much he'd lost before Skywarp and Thundercracker brought it back, and he realized with some surprise that the two had somehow managed to carve their own little niche in his life. Occasionally, he regretted that he hadn't gotten to know the Seeker before Starscream's deactivation, but mostly he was just grateful for their presence.

-/-

Vorns passed, and with it Cybertron itself began to change. It was a gradual thing- barely noticeable from the insulated labs of the Academy. As secluded as he was, Skyfire would have missed its beginnings if it hadn't been for Skywarp and Thundercracker's visits.

He'd heard of the energon shortage himself. Considering how many scientists had been drafted to working on improving the collection process, he would have had to be blind not to take notice. He often heard of the resulting unrest, but it seemed far removed from Iacon. Unimportant. Without the two Seekers, he would have had no idea of the true magnitude of the crisis.

Skywarp and Thundercracker always seemed to be in the middle of what was happening around Cybertron. Thundercracker prided himself on knowing what was going on around him, and he had a knack for understanding politics and using it to his advantage. As military mecha, they had access to stations throughout Cybertron, and they had been called in to 'keep the peace' personally. Skyfire learned more about the state of the underbelly of the cities in a megacycle with them than he would have from an orn of listening to the official statements. What he heard was troubling.

He'd already known that life was often difficult for military and flightframes, especially in Iacon, and for the lower class in general. He'd seen firsthand how Starscream was treated for being a warrior model. From the subtle prejudices that invaded their work to the not-so-subtle disbelief that a Seeker could possibly have the intelligence to be a scientist, and his situation had been far from unique. He'd just been one of the few determined and skilled enough to force his way in regardless. As a Shuttle, Skyfire had it far easier, but there had always been an unspoken doubt that such a cumbersome build could possibly have become a competent scientist.

Many had it far worse.

The energon crisis had only forced the tension to the surface. When Skywarp began to describe what was happening in the slums Skyfire began to realize he'd barely even scratched the surface of what was happening. Of what  _had_ been happening in the darkened lower levels of the cities.

Even as a civilian-model and a pacifist, Skyfire easily sympathized with the disorganized rebels. Flight models in particular required more energon to function, and the crisis had hit them hard. With mecha looking down on them for the wasteful consumption and demanding stricter rations for high-energy models, the flight-framed and larger bots, who were often military themselves, struggled under the restrictions. Skywarp was lucky- with his ability, he was too useful to be shorted on energon, and he split his larger rations with his trinemate.

Many of the discontents, who the news stations displayed as violent and ignorant, were struggling to remain online at all. Thundercracker had been hesitant to describe what happened when the military was ordered to step in, but Skyfire could make a pretty good guess.

From the way they talked, many military mecha were becoming rather… disillusioned with the Council and the largely Civilian mecha that controlled their orders. Loyalty only went so far, and there were rumors of the more defiant bots starting to aid the rebels instead of removing them. They still followed their orders for the most part, but Thundercracker seemed convinced that with the right push, that would change.

The rebels were still weak. Disorganized and uneducated, the individual rebellions rarely lasted an orn after they took up weapons before they were taken down. Most of the sympathetic military bots were only grunts- they could give the rebels much-needed manpower, but without a solid strategy would end up quashed within a vorn, and they knew it.

They needed a leader- someone to unite the scattered groups, give them a purpose and a target.

Skywarp eagerly recited tales of the many, many failed attempts to take power and how quickly the mech was usually removed or deactivated. The rebels needed a leader to be a threat, but they were also proud. Nobody would follow anyone unworthy. Skyfire didn't know whether he hoped a mech would step forward to force the change Cybertron so desperately needed, or that such a mech never came so they could avoid the chaos and destruction that would undoubtedly result.

In the end, it wasn't his choice to make, and eventually they brought him whispers of a new, powerful leader beginning to emerge. A Kaon mech who had survived his bid for power and held a growing number of loyal mechs below him. He was an ex-gladiator and an enormous, powerful mech rumored to be undefeated in combat.

Skywarp and Thundercracker were absolutely enthralled by the mech.

They'd gone to see one of his public speeches as soon as rumors of the mech's growing success reached them. Whoever this Megatron was, he'd immediately gained their attention. They'd come to Skyfire's flat still glowing from their glimpse of the ex-Gladiator, optics bright and wings vibrating with energy. Skywarp in particular was completely fascinated. Something about the mech- his obvious strength, charismatic speeches- had captivated his processor. Skywarp carefully followed the mech's movements and the growing influence in the faction, and he enthusiastically shared what he knew.

With Megatron at their head, the changes in the rebels were frightening to behold. Within orns of his arrival, the rebels went from an annoyance to a true rebellion. The official newscasts refused to broadcast images of the mech or his speeches, but Skywarp freely revealed the clips of him, in battle and out, being passed around the lower ranks. Signs of the rebels began to appear, even in the streets of Iacon, as the faction grew larger and braver. Though the Enforcers of the inner-city tried to conceal the evidence of the mecha, Skyfire had seen their purple symbol painted or carved onto buildings throughout the city.

Eventually, his curiosity won out over common sense and Skyfire allowed Skywarp to bring him to one of the newly-named Decepticon rallies. The Seeker was ecstatic at the thought of seeing Megatron in person again, and Skyfire couldn't deny his own tentative interest. Megatron was too infamous to venture into Iacon yet, but it was simple for Skywarp to warp the three of them to the slums of the city Megatron was inside.

They stood at the back of the large crowd, veiled by the deep shadows of the buildings surrounding them and the grime that floated freely around them. The Seekers grimaced at the dirt that clung to their frame, but didn't complain at the simple fact of the slums.

Skyfire towered over the mecha around him. They were an odd mix of civilian and military, of thin, underfueled plating and scarred military armor. Almost all of them had the too dim optics of a mech low on fuel. Several had visible injuries or missing parts. Although most of the mecha were ground-frames, there were a few other flyers dotting the outskirts of the crowd. Skyfire was all too conscious of his bright, undamaged plating and the way he stood out from the crowd. He was the outsider- the higher class bot invading their sanctuary. Thankfully, it wasn't long before the rally began, immediately drawing the crowd's attention to the elevated platform in the center.

When he got his first glimpse of the infamous Megatron, Skyfire knew immediately how the mech had managed to capture the loyalty of such a volatile faction as the Decepticons. He moved with a fighter's grace as he prowled into sight, and his broad frame radiated immovable strength and danger. The crowd surged with a fanatic energy at the sight of him.

When he started to speak… He was entrancing. The mob stilled, the street disappeared, and there was only his rasping, powerful voice and prowling movements as his presence overflowed from the stage. Skyfire didn't know how the mech had learned his eloquence, but he spoke more like a noble than a miner, even as his ideals were obviously tempered by his experience. He spoke of victories and revolution, of violence and equality. An uprising that would toss the corrupt, haughty mecha off of their opulent thrones.

When he mentioned the injustices of the upper class, his anger was almost tangible. Overwhelming. It whipped the mechs into a frenzy, which he masterfully guided towards his ideals. He knew just how to push the mecha to harness their emotions, how to make them see what he envisioned and yearn for what he promised.

Skyfire left the rally with much to think about, thoughts churning uneasily in his processer.

Skywarp was all but vibrating with excitement from the meeting, and even Thundercracker's wings quivered with excess energy. They spoke in rushed, fervent tones about the speech, eagerly comparing insights and details, but Skyfire didn't pay attention to their hushed conversation. He was too caught up in his own thoughts on what he'd just witnessed. Not all of them as cheerful as his companions’

War was inevitable. If he'd thought the mounting unrest would escalate before, it was nothing compared to what he knew now. He'd seen the desperate forms of the workers and heard the strength it lent to their conviction. They wouldn't give up- not until Cybertron changed, and the Council would never accept Megatron’s demands peacefully.

Megatron was everything he'd feared he would be and more. There was something… wrong about him. Something in his optics that seemed to almost contradict his flowery speeches and grand promises. Skyfire was tempted to call it madness, but- that wasn't quite right. There was nothing insane in the way he spoke nor irrational in how he united the mecha. No, it was something else- saner, but no less dangerous.

Even if he couldn't quite name what unsettled him, Skyfire had long learned to trust his instincts. And all of them were screaming at him to give this Megatron a wide berth, no matter what he seemed or how convincingly he spoke.

This was the mech who would be leading the Revolution against the very rulers of Cybertron. Who may some orn have part of the Military backing him- including his Seekers.

Skyfire shuddered, armor pressed tight against him in preparation for an attack that wouldn't come, but the two Seekers beside him, still murmuring excitedly to each other, didn't notice.

~.*.~


	4. Expanding Horizons

Megatron was a competent leader, almost frighteningly so. Soon enough, almost all the scattered rebels wore his symbol. Then more mecha, those who'd been balancing on the fringe, began declaring their support for the new faction. Some frametypes in particular flocked to his cause. Miners. Low-class laborers. Most warrior builds.

Seekers.

The frametype was both a flight-frame and overwhelmingly military- two of the rebel's most vocal supporters. Few had openly joined the cause, but it was an open secret that Vos’s inhabitants were Decepticon sympathizers. They continued as part of the Military, but the higher-ups were well aware of the majority's shifting loyalties.

Skywarp lost his position as a courier- lost almost all access to sensitive information. So did Thundercracker. Instead, most Seekers were restricted to running routine patrols across Cybertron. It was insultingly simple compared for what they'd been trained for.

It was one of the few times Skyfire had seen Thundercracker visibly furious.

"They're not even  _pretending_ to have a good reason for it," he fumed, pacing around the small confines of Skyfire's flat. "Pit, they didn't even try to figure out who does or doesn't support the 'Cons- just reassigned every single Seeker to this slagging grunt work!"

He growled, armor flaring out aggressively. "So  _stupid,"_ he hissed. _"_ I know Seekers who are still loyal- who wouldn't even  _think_ about betraying the Military, and those fraggers don't even care!"

"It's just…" he slumped as his anger left him, leaving only an old, weary resignation. Skywarp was immediately beside him, lightly stroking his wings. Thundercracker leaned into the comfort as he continued quietly. "I'm tired of this. Tired of- of  _all_  of this."

It was more than just the unofficial demotion. Seekers weren't truly welcome in Iacon anymore. They'd stopped traveling around the city- too many overcharged slurs and unprompted fights. Skywarp and Thundercracker had stopped even visiting the Academy after they found out Skyfire had been personally reminded that, in order to preserve the Academy's famed neutrality, any scientist associating with the Decepticons would be removed.

And so it continued.

-/-

Soon enough, Thundercracker and Skywarp came to him with the unmistakable purple Decepticon symbols etched on their wings. Skyfire couldn't say he was surprised. They were fighters, by choice and function, and he'd always known which side they would choose to fight for. Still, the sight of those distinctive symbols made his spark ache with sorrow.

They stood in his doorway with their wings canted proudly even as their optics shone with uncertainty. They entered his quarters with their heads and wings held high, looking every bit a proud Decepticon soldier. Only vorns of friendship let Skyfire read the nervousness in their tense wings and sharp movements.

With a quiet murmur of greeting, he grabbed them a cube of energon, just as he always had since the energon restrictions began. With his back towards the two, he sensed more than saw their confusion. He turned back in time to see the two casting sidelong glances at each other, obviously speaking through their trinebond.

Neither relaxed as they sat down. They just stared at him silently, as if waiting for something. Whatever they wanted, Skyfire didn’t give it to them. If they wanted a confrontation, they would have to make the first move. He didn’t have to wait long.

"Aren't you going to  _say_ something?" Skywarp finally burst out, after less than a half breem of expectant silence.

Skyfire looked back at Skywarp steadily, and the mech squirmed under his gaze as the sound of his voice faded. There was… honestly a lot he wanted to say. He was concerned that they had bound themselves to Megatron and disappointed they hadn't even mentioned they were thinking about taking the brand, among others. But, honestly, the emotions were only dull reflections of what they should have been. He was tired too.

So he only sighed before asking, "What do you want me to say?"

Skywarp sputtered at his answer, wing tips flickering sporadically. "I don't know!" he exclaimed, glancing briefly at his wingmate for reassurance. "S _omething!_ Not just- just  _ignoring_ it! I mean, aren't you going to- to"

He made a baffled, aborted gesture around the room before collapsing back into his chair with a muffled groan. Two pairs of bright red optics stared back at Skyfire, both looking for answers he wasn't sure he could give.

"To what?" Skyfire asked quietly. "Yell at you? Point out the obvious?" He paused, staring at each of them in turn. "What reaction are you looking for?"

They shuffled uncomfortably in their seat. "We're not blind," Thundercracker said. "We know you don't approve of the war or the Decepticons."

_That_  surprised him. After he'd seen how much the two admired Megatron and his faction, he'd tried to hide his own skepticism. Then again, he’d never been a very good liar. It also heled him understand their nervous reaction. They were worried, not just about his initial reaction, but that their decision might cost them his friendship.

Really, they should know him better than that.

He chose his words carefully as he made his response. "I may not outright support them or their methods, but that doesn't mean I disagree with what they're trying to do." He sighed. "I… can't deny that I would have preferred if you'd stayed away from the fighting, but… with everything that's happening, I can't fault you for your decision."

"We thought you would have tried to make us stop" Skywarp said, stunned.

"Oh, undoubtedly I would have tried," Skyfire said. "But I wouldn't have tried to force you. And…" he paused, trying to put the truth he'd tried to deny into words. "Somehow, I believe that trying to change your mind about this would be about as effective as the two of you trying to change mine."

A slew of emotions played across their faces—surprise, gratitude, happiness. "Thank you," Thundercracker said simply, and the words were rich with relief. Then they let the conversation flow back to more comfortable topics, avoiding mentions of the war altogether.

-/-

Of course, Skywarp and Thundercracker weren’t the only Seekers to officially defect. Thundercracker wouldn’t have allowed such a risky venture.  No, it had been a city-wide event. Apparently, Vos had declared full secession from the Senate’s rule, taking all its military might with it. The Senate and official news stations tried to underplay the tactical disaster, but there was only so much they could do.

He was alone in his quarters when the news was officially unveiled. Sentinel Prime himself delivered the information in one of his rare public appearances, broadcasting all across Cybertron.

The Seekers were starting to rub off on him. As Skyfire watched the Prime begin, he couldn't help but marvel about how different he seemed from the last time he'd seen Cybertron's leader, many vorns ago. The Prime didn't seem invincible anymore. Skyfire wasn't awed by his position or the hidden presence of the matrix within his chest. The Prime was… a mech. A powerful mech, but no more intimidating than any of the Senate.

The Decepticons didn't despise the Prime nearly as much as the Senate, but it was a close thing. He was a civilian build as well and the single most influential mech on the planet. He hadn’t spearheaded any particularly unpopular law, but that meant little in the world of political machinations. He certainly hadn’t opposed them, and for many Decepticons that was good enough.

So Skyfire watched the Prime for the first time as a mech and not a near-mystical being, paying careful attention to how he delivered the news as well as what he said. He was, as expected, grim as he described the Senate’s response to the defection. The responsibilities the military could no longer perform were now delegated to the Enforcers, a military offshoot with little in common with sparked warframes. Previously, they’d only preserved the peace inside individual cities. Now, they were expanding into a true interplanetary army under the Senate’s control.

There was far more to the speech- platitudes, promises, statements of trust and strength- but Skyfire wasn't interested in that. There would always be political machinations and gilded promises, and it all boiled down to meaningless posturing. No, Skyfire was far more interested in what was actually happening as they frantically tried to recover from the secession.

The Enforcers would be struggling to keep up with their new duties. Currently, they were far too small and undertrained to take on planetary responsibilities. They’d clashed with the Decepticons before, but only barely. For vorns, the Force had stayed almost entirely out of the slums. They maintained order in the upper and middle classes, leaving the slums to create their own order. As a result, they’d never commanded much respect among the lower sectors, and they’d never even tried to attack the ‘Cons directly.

The Enforcers answered only to the Senate, and that alone would make it worse than when the Military had dealt with the rebellion. They would not sympathize with the rebels as the military-builds had. Many would likely even share the common prejudices towards lower-class and military builds.

The fighting would almost certainly be escalating now. First while the Decepticons took advantage of the chaos, then when the Enforcers were strong enough to retaliate.

The last, resonant echoes of the Prime's voice finally faded from the broadcast, and he disappeared from the screen soon after. Skyfire dismissed the broadcast, but he remained sitting, just staring at the darkened walls surrounding him, until his internal clock reminded him he needed to recharge.

-/-

Only an orn after the official defection, the unrest was officially upgraded into a true civil war. Even so, it remained distant in Iacon. A thing of hushed conversation and rampant speculation that contained more outright lies and half-truths than real information.

Like other cities, Iacon had its Decepticon supporters, but they were subdued compared to the other cities. Iacon was still the heart of the government, where the Enforcers were better trained and upper levels far better guarded. With the increase in the Enforcer's power, rumors of Decepticon activity anywhere in the city were quickly and harshly squashed.

The Iacon Academy was prestigious enough to be in one of the highest levels of the city, but Skyfire no longer lived nearby. He'd left the nicer place he'd split with Starscream and all its memories for a smaller apartment on the very edges of the middle levels.

He'd initially chosen the spot because anti-warrior build sentiments didn't run nearly as strongly so close to the lower levels, and he couldn't listen to the ignorant rumors surrounding Seekers anymore. Now that Skywarp and Thundercracker were branded Decepticons, the location served a second, more useful purpose.

Enforcers rarely patrolled here, and patriotism was often lacking, though few risked outright supporting the rebels. Even if his Seekers were careless enough to be seen, there was a chance his neighbors would just let it pass without reporting them.

Skyfire still worried about them. They were coming to Iacon, one of the most dangerous places they could possibly be. It would only take one mistake. With their Decepticon brands, they would be immediately imprisoned. Possibly even deactivated. Any Enforcer would relish the chance to take down a branded Decepticon in the very center of Iacon.

So, on their next visit, Skyfire sat them down to talk. The purple sigils on their wings stared at him, undeniable. He tried not to look at them. "It is too dangerous for you to be in Iacon anymore," he said quietly.

Skywarp faltered and stared at him with wide optics. The easy grin fell from his face, replaced by a blank mask. Even their wings, which had been twitching and shifting idly with their thoughts as always, completely stilled.

"We… understand if our presence makes you feel unsafe," Thundercracker said haltingly. He'd unconsciously shifted towards his trinemate so their wings brushed lightly against each other.

"What?" Skyfire asked. Why would they- oh. "No, that's not what I meant at all," he corrected. "With the brand, it's too dangerous for  _you_ two to come here, so close to the center of Iacon."

He could almost hear the tension draining out of their frame. Thundercracker smiled as he said, "We appreciate the concern, but we both already know the dangers." He shrugged. "We discussed the possibility before we took the brands and decided it was worth it."

"What if we were to meet somewhere outside of Iacon?" That could solve many of the problems without changing anything important. They could be safe then.

Thundercracker frowned, tapping his long claws against his leg with an audible clack. "How could we arrange that?" he asked, honestly curious.

"Wouldn't our com systems be capable of-"

"No," Thundercracker interrupted gently. "That would be even more dangerous. For all of us." His wings fluttered, displaying the insignia splashed across their length. "Our wings aren't the only things that are different now- our com signals have changed too. They'd be able to trace the message." He shrugged. "The identification program is one of the ways to tell us apart from the civvies. Or imposters"

Skyfire nodded, accepting the reason. It was more painful than he'd expected to consider, but… "Then it would be safest if you stayed away from Iacon altogether until something changes."

Thundercracker shook his head. "Not an option," he said resolutely. "Trine comes first- always. You might not be actual Trine, but you're pretty slagging close. And we never abandon our kin."

Skyfire stared at him in astonishment. They considered him kin? Near Trine? For a Seeker, that was simply… unimaginable. He glanced briefly at Skywarp to see his reaction to the declaration, but the Seeker just smiled uncharacteristically gently and gave a slight nod. Skyfire couldn't help but smile back at that. He hadn't realized they regarded him so highly… but that didn't change the facts. "The risks are still-"

Skywarp groaned, collapsing back against his seat noisily. "C'mon, 'Fire, trust us!" he said. "Nobody'll be able to see us coming in. I'll make sure of it! 'Sides, if we do get caught, then I'll just 'port us away again. It's easy!"

The tangled mass of worry in his chest seemed to loosen at that. They seemed reassuringly assured of their own safety, but Skyfire didn't know if it was justified confidence or arrogance that fed their easy conviction. "I don't want to be the reason you get captured," he finally confessed.

"You won't," Thundercracker said. "Even if, through some random act of chance, something goes wrong, it would be our fault. Not yours."

"If you're sure," he said slowly, still uncertain but unable to see a better option. There were so many ways this could go wrong, but at least they had a way to get out. No mech would plan for Skywarp's teleporting ability.

So, against his better judgment, he let himself be convinced. He hadn’t really wanted to win that argument anyway, and it was so easy to let them have their way. It wasn't like they were careless either; the two were excruciatingly careful in Iacon. Skywarp began 'porting directly into Skyfire's flat which, although inconvenient, was far safer than arriving outside where they could be seen.

Even before the Rebellion gained traction, the Seekers had always visited him irregularly, and that didn't change now that they were Decepticons. They visited when they could, and they still discussed everything from changing politics to the annoying mecha they had to deal with. If the war was closer than it had been and the mechs new recruits instead of fellow workers, then it had little bearing on their visits.

Yet, much as Skyfire tried to ignore it, things changed. New weaponry bulked up their frames, and new scars appeared with them. Sometimes, the weldmarks were still fresh when they arrived on his doorstep, and they often looked tired— _haggard_ , even. But they never mentioned the fighting, and Skyfire didn’t force them. He could give them that much, at least.

It worked, for a while. Then Skywarp ‘warped into the middle of Skyfire’s living room with Thundercracker hanging off him, half his side blackened and bubbled from blaster fire. His legs nearly gave out, and he would have fallen if Skywarp hadn’t been holding him up.

"Thundercracker?" Skyfire gasped, shooting up to help Skywarp support his trinemate. “What happened?”

“We got in a firefight that ended badly. TC got hit,” Skywarp said shortly. He was outright shaking in exhaustion and coated in grime, though he didn’t seem to be damaged.

They helped Thundercracker over to the couch, where he sank down with an audible sound of relief. Skyfire got his first good look at the damage while Skywarp fretted. The plating on Thundercracker’s side was badly warped from heat, pressing in on his internals. No energon lines seemed to have been broken, meaning the damage was painful but not dangerous.

"Why hasn't this been fixed?" Skyfire asked. A good medic could repair it in only half a cycle.

Thundercracker shrugged, hissing slightly as the movement jarred the injury. "The medics are still tied up with more serious cases. This could wait."

Thundercracker’s ruined side looked plenty serious to Skyfire, even if it wasn’t critical damage. At the very least, Thundercracker should still be near the med-bay in case his condition changed.  Before he could say anything, Skywarp piped up instead.  

"The base is still super chaotic now,” Skywarp explained.  “It’s always rough when a buncha warframes need to calm down again after a fight. I figured it'd be better for TC to hide out here for a few groons 'till everything settles down." He paused, looking almost nervous for a moment. "That's okay with you, right?"

"Of course," Skyfire said immediately, still staring at Thundercracker's damaged side. "How often does this happen?

Skywarp, who'd gone back to fussing over Thundercracker, made a distracted noise. "We're short on medics. Nothing we can do 'bout that. A lot of mecha know some of the basics, and that's usually enough."

Thundercracker finally seemed to get tired of Skywarp's hovering and pushed his hands away. "It's fine," he said, though he still let Skywarp press himself against his uninjured side. Then he turned back to Skyfire. "The medics will have time to fix it in the next couple orns or so, once the med-bay's less hectic."

Skyfire nodded and tried to look less anxious, but that didn't stop the heavy curl of dread from settling in his chest. He hadn’t known the Decepticons were short on medics, or how bad the situation apparently was that Thundercracker was safer here than waiting in the med-bay. The injury might not be lethal, but it still needed to be treated. If the shot had been just a bit stronger or higher…Thundercracker might not have come back at all.

He fussed over them both for the next couple solar cycles, but there wasn’t much he could do. Skywarp ‘warped in and out as he dealt with responsibilities back on base, and Thundercracker stayed behind. He spent most of his time recharging, face pinched from pain. The damage didn’t get worse, but it didn’t get better either. Finally, Skywarp came to ‘port Thundercracker to the med-bay for repairs, leaving Skyfire alone in his empty apartment. A full orn passed before Skywarp came back and let him know the repairs went well. He had a lot of time to think before then.

-/-

Skyfire hadn’t entered the Academy’s Hall of Records since before the crash, but, the next orn, he found himself standing in its Central Atrium. It was a bright, clean building, home to the most extensive databanks on the planet. Most of the datastorage was focused on scientific pursuits, which was where Skyfire had normally visited. This time, though, Skyfire wandered further back into the Hall, where the less popular sections were stored.

Medical knowledge was hidden away in a narrow alcove. Skyfire had only entered this section once before, back when he and Starscream were preparing for their expedition. Any explorer leaving for an expedition had needed basic knowledge of first aid before they left, just in case. The datapads on Seekers were just where he remembered. It was one of the smallest sections, barely more than the frametype's basic schematics and coding information. If he wanted to accomplish anything, then he needed to know more.

So he passed by the Seeker datapads and moved deeper into the alcove. There were more complicated information there, meant for advanced students or qualified medics to use for research. Instead of frame-specific data, the datapads contained anything from specific discoveries to experimental treatment techniques.

All of it was thorough. Most of it was completely incomprehensible to anyone besides a fully qualified medic.

Looking at the daunting piles of information, Skyfire hesitated. It would be easy to turn around and leave. Go back to his apartment and ignore the impulse that had led him here. He wasn’t a medic; he didn’t have the spark or the coding for it, and he definitely didn’t have the right education or resources. Pit, he wasn't even part of the war, not really.

But he could still see the poorly concealed pain on Thundercracker's face and the way his plating had blackened and twisted from heat, left untreated by overworked medics.

Thundercracker had declared him kin. That tie went both ways. If there was a chance he could help them, he had to take it. Even if he failed, he'd at least have wasted his time with something more worthwhile than the Council's experiments.

So he grabbed an armful of datapads almost at random and got started. 

-/-

Once upon a time, Skyfire had spent his free time developing dozens of ideas. He and Starscream had more than half a dozen experiments running at any time, some that needed tending every orn and others that lasted vorns without change. It had been a side effect of partnering with Starscream. He was always having new, exhilarating ideas and dedicating every spare klik to hammering them out, leaving Skyfire to maintain their older experiments until his partner's newest obsession faded.

There had never seemed to be enough time to watch over everything. He always had data to analyze and research to be done and experiments to conduct. Dozens of tiny variables to adjust and perfect.

Then Starscream was gone, and all that had disappeared, leaving Skyfire with far too much time and too little to fill it. No casual experiments developing in his lab or promising ideas. Nothing but empty silence.

So when he decided he would learn to heal, he finally had another project he could dedicate his entire spark to. Something he could be proud to work on and a true challenge to his intellect. He worked on it just as hard as he had his experiments, dedicating every spare klik to slowly piecing together what he needed to know.

The work was excruciatingly slow and tedious, especially at the beginning. The research journals were designed for advanced researchers and medics, not novices. He had to coax out every scrap of basic knowledge from among the medical jargon. It was cycles of work for very little gain and probably the most frustrating project he’d ever attempted. As a scientist, he was used to having physical proof of his progress, not just piles of discarded datapads and a small smattering of successful notes.

Slowly, as his knowledge base grew, his research grew exponentially easier and quicker, and he graduated from disjointed notes to real projects. Over time, he compiled full datapads detailing the most common types of battle injuries and, eventually, managed to fill in ways such damage could be identified and treated, even without a medic's specialized tools.  

Once his research progressed far enough, he began developing his own experiments. That, at least, was more familiar territory. All medics learned their way around a mech's chassis long before they were allowed to see an actual patient. Of course, the medics-in-training would learn on spare parts, which Skyfire didn't have access to. Good thing he'd always been talented at improvisation.

He only needed to be able to observe how different systems and circuitry fit together. Truly, he didn’t even need to take anything apart, at least not yet. And, well, it isn't altogether difficult to remove your own plating to reveal the circuitry beneath.

He was extraordinarily careful. The delicate weave of cabling that encircled other systems tears extremely easily, and he only needed to brush against a sensor cluster once to learn to carefully, carefully avoid touching the sensitive nodes again.

It was… fascinating to see the inner workings of his leg, if a bit frightening to be so profoundly exposed. That hands-on experience taught him how to identify the different cabling and intricate connections of his frame. It took a few decaorns, but he eventually grew comfortable enough to move past observation and begin actually adjusting the delicate wiring.

To his surprise, he was well suited for the task. Decavorns of experimentation had given him steady, precise hands, and fiddling with inner systems was not altogether different from tinkering with the delicate parts of a machine. It was still difficult and he made many mistakes, but nothing that couldn't be quickly fixed. Or, on the rare occasions he damaged something with no idea how to repair it, mended with a quick trip to a trained medic and an excuse. He tried to see his mistakes as a good learning experience on treating minor injuries.

Truthfully, the hardest part about teaching himself was the programming. Medical programs were a closely guarded secret, designed to grant borderline unlimited access through a mech's firewalls. The coding itself was a work of sophisticated beauty refined by generations of experts. They enabled a medic to perform a multitude of tasks necessary to work on major damage, including deactivating pain sensors and arresting the flow of fluids into a damaged part.

Skyfire knew the basics, but he had never been a talented programmer. He didn't have a prayer of duplicating them. Thankfully, he didn't need to. He didn't need the seamless integration or unbreakable authority that characterized a true medic's codes. All he needed was a basic, functioning tool—difficult, but possible.

As he worked on expanding his knowledge, he continued developing his fledgling programs. He hesitated to test them on his own frame—if he had messed up, as he almost certainly had, then he risked screwing up his own programming, and that wasn't near as easy to fix as minor damage.

So, when he was ready, he turned to the archives for a simulation that could test his programs. Real medics used such simulations to test new programming changes and to practice difficult procedures, particularly the sort of experimental researchers the Academy often employed. It didn’t take long to find.

As expected, the first time he tried one of his own programs--one meant to turn off local pain sensors--the simulated 'mech's' programming managed to build up enough errors to completely crash its processer. He managed to find and correct the conflicting commands, only for the simulation to politely inform him that the program would put dangerous strain on a real mech's sensor net.

It took dozens of painstaking adjustments, but eventually he managed to work through the simulation successfully. Skyfire ran it through a dozen more times, just to be sure. Only then did he activate the pain-sensor deactivating program on himself, and he spent a tense few kliks waiting to see how his frame would react.

When nothing immediately went wrong, he opened a panel on his arm and pressed down on a sensor cluster. Nothing- no shot of pain or cascade of error messages. He almost laughed out loud in victory, before reminding himself he still needed to ensure the program would deactivate properly. He removed the program from his processer, and this time he only brushed lightly across a particularly sensitive section of wiring. The familiar, prickling sensation of almost-pain met his sensor net, and this time he didn't stop the exultant grin from forming.

He tested the rest of the programs over the next orn, waiting carefully to see if any side effects would show up. Aside from a slight ache in his processer from the foreign, unrefined programs, there were no unexpected problems.

So the next time he noticed Skywarp cradling a long dent along his arm, he offered to help fix it.

Skywarp paused for a moment at the unexpected request, but hesitantly offered his arm to the Shuttle for inspection. Skyfire didn't own the tools or knowledge to truly fix the injury, but he could at least soften the edges of the wound and repair some of the torn and dislocated wires underneath.

Both Skywarp and Thundercracker stared at him in curiosity and growing disbelief as he carefully opened up the damaged armor plating and started repairing the misaligned circuitry beneath. He paused for a moment while he took in the differences in the Seeker's circuitry, so much smaller than his own. The connections were still the same though, and his fingers found their correct placement easily.

When Skyfire replaced the paneling, Skywarp flexed his arm, optics dimming minutely as he ran an internal diagnostic on it. Presumably everything came back clear, because Skywarp only stared back at him in astonishment.

"How the Pit did you learn how to do that?" Skywarp asked, running his fingers along the partly repaired damage as if making sure it wasn't some sort of trick.

Skyfire fiddled with his energon cube, unexpectedly self-conscious at their intense interest. "It's a… project of mine I've been working on," he started. Thundercracker gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look, waiting for him to elaborate, so he did. He quietly outlined what he'd been working on over the past metacycles—the archives, programming, testing—though he left out how he'd experimented on himself as well. He didn't think the two would appreciate that risk.

They were silent when he finished.

"You did all that just 'cause of the situation with the medics?" Thundercracker asked, staring at him oddly. Skyfire nodded, and the Seeker shook his head slowly in disbelief. "Primus. Why did we ever think you were going to-" he trailed off, still staring.

"So how does it even work?" Skywarp asked. He'd abandoned prodding at his arm sometime during the conversation and was staring at the Shuttle in unabashed curiosity.

They spent the rest of the cycle discussing the intricate workings of their frames as Skyfire tried to explain the basics of what he'd painstakingly learned. Thundercracker and Skywarp only knew the bare basics of first aid—mainly how to recognize fluid spills and which energon lines were the most dangerous to have cut. At one point, Skyfire unlatched the armor of his own hand to show Skywarp how the intricate gears and components fit together and glided into smooth movement.

An orn later, Thundercracker cautiously approached him about a minor lag in the response of one of his cannons. It only took half a breem for Skyfire to trace the wiring in his weapons to the stripped ones along his shoulder, and it took even less for him to replace them. An easy fix.

Thundercracker inspected his arm, testing the repairs, before giving him a rare smile of gratitude. After that, they started coming to him for minor repairs when they could and, as he started gaining more experience, more major ones.

He got the chance to use his programs on them, though he rarely did so unless he was forced to. Without the proper programs, the medical datalink he used to activate the programs grated on both their processers. The edges never seemed to mesh quite right, and the brush of consciousness through the link was unsettling. Still, he was grateful he'd gotten them to work at all, particularly whenever they brought him the more difficult damage.

"The Decepticons don't have very good medics," Skywarp confessed one visit while Skyfire was carefully soldering torn energon and hydraulics pipes in his leg back together. He'd received a long gash in his armor during a minor skirmish. It had still been leaking sluggishly when he arrived at Skyfire’s home.

"Not many joined up with us, and the ones that did…" His leg twitched under Skyfire's hands for a moment. "Creepy… Like they'd rather take you apart than put you back together again.  _Not_ the type of mech you want messing around with your internals."

Regardless, Skyfire was honored by the amount of trust that they showed in him. They willingly allowed him to handle the delicate internal circuitry, trusting that his repairs would hold during the strain of battles. Skyfire checked and double checked every repair he made, doing his best to live up to their trust.

~.*.~


	5. Repercussions

Something crashed inside his apartment, and Skyfire paused with his fingers on the keypad. He leaned close to the door, listening intently, but no other sounds leaked out. Ever so carefully, Skyfire finished inputting his passcode, and the door slid silently open.

The short entryway was dark and empty, but light bled from underneath the far door. Skyfire crept towards it. A low murmur of voices reached him, soft and indiscernible. One of them rose suddenly as if in an argument, and there was something familiar in the tone. Skyfire straightened as his half-formed suspicions vanished. He opened the door and stepped into the light.  

 “Good thing I didn’t ‘com the Enforcers about an intruder,” Skyfire said loudly. Both Seekers jumped at the sound of his voice

“Skyfire?” Skywarp yelped, twisting around. His wing smacked into a nearby wall, and a grin lit up his face.

Thundercracker was more composed, but his smile was just as wide.  “Sorry,” he said, stepping closer. “Next time, we’ll leave a sign on the door.”

Shaking his head in exasperation, Skyfire walked forward to greet them properly, pulling them close in a brief embrace. Their frames were warm, humming with life. For once, neither Seeker had any damage, old or new. Only scars.

 “It’s been a while,” Skyfire said as they separated. “It’s good to see you.  How’s the shoulder holding up?”

Thundercracker had received a nasty burn across the joint before his last visit though, from the look of it, the plating had healed nicely. He kept smiling as he answered in the affirmative. While they exchanged pleasantries, Skywarp fidgeted beside them, contributing only the bare minimum. His wings flicked in restless circles, and he kept stealing glances at the door.

Finally, after a breem of watching him squirm, Skyfire asked him, “Is something wrong?”

Skywarp jumped guiltily. He gawped awkwardly for a klik then, rushing so the words tangled together, said, “I can’t stay this time. Sorry. I found some wrecks on the city outskirts I wanted to map.” He spared them a quick smile then ducked back into the empty center of the room, as if afraid they’d try to stop him. “You guys have fun!” And, with a familiar burst of purple and gentle energy pulse, he was gone.

Skyfire stared after him. “What was that?” he mumbled, mostly to himself. Thundercracker heard.

 “We haven’t received much free time to fly recently. Skywarp takes it hard,” he explained, looking at the spot where his Trinemate had vanished.

Skyfire nodded. Seekers were more prone to sky-hunger than other air frames. Back… _Before_ , Starscream had been the same. He’d get caught up in projects for orns, forgetting to fly or refuel properly, and would be unbearable until he fixed it. Even so, it was strange to see Thundercracker without a second pair of wings at his shoulder. He and Skywarp had been nigh inseparable after the death of their Trineleader. Skyfire set the thought aside. He’d missed both Seekers, though he’d enjoy speaking only to Thundercracker regardless.

“Sit,” Skyfire said, gesturing at a couch behind them. “Tell me about what’s changed since the last time you visited.”

Thundercracker sat down beside him, ruffling his wings until they lay comfortingly along the material. “You might be disappointed. It’s been mostly training, patrols, and waiting for the past couple decaorns--nothing remotely exciting.”

“Tell me anyway.”

-/-

They only spoke for a handful of breems before Thundercracker suddenly stopped mid-sentence, an odd expression on his face. He glanced around the room, searching for something. Skyfire started to ask him what was going on, but Thundercracker gestured sharply for him to stay silent. Troubled, Skyfire obeyed. His com pinged with a request to open a link, which he immediately accepted. Thundercracker's voice filled his head.

:Something's off: he commed. He stood up, and Skyfire felt a scan prickle across his plating. Whatever Thundercracker found didn't seem to help, and the confused crease between his optics only deepened as he started pacing the room. :Can you feel it?:

:I don't-: Skyfire started to say, but then he heard something at the very edge of his hearing. A high-pitched electrical hum so soft that, even with his audios dialed up, it was barely audible. He turned around to face it, but there was only the blank expanse of a wall behind him. It was coming from outside. Strange.

He glanced back in time to see the exact moment Thundercracker heard it too. The confused expression disappeared, replaced by dawning realization. "Skyfire,  _move_!" he shouted, starting towards him.

But, before he could do anything, the electrical hum turned into a roar. Agony split Skyfire’s helm open. His sensor net fritzed violently, and Skyfire tumbled to the ground as he lost control over his limbs. Conscious thought abandoned him and, a moment later, he dropped thankfully into unconsciousness.

-/-

Skyfire onlined into a void.

Error messages rolled across his consciousness in alarming glyphs, but Skyfire couldn't focus on their scrolling forms. His sensor net was still unresponsive, and his thoughts wandered in listless, disjointed circles. Pain lurked beneath everything, muted but already threatening to flare up. He tried to remember what had happened. Couldn't. That probably should have upset him, but the thought faded from his mind as quickly as it had appeared.

His audios returned in a burst of static. The interference soon cleared, though the sound remained oddly muted.  In the floating emptiness, the sharp sound of metal striking metal echoed, worsening the ache in his helm. Optics were next. They flickered on in stages, in bursts of light and hazes of color.

As his optics reset, the first unsettling traces of dread settled over his spark. Something… was wrong. Something important.  He tried to move—to stand—but his frame didn’t respond. Soon enough, he stopped trying. Blurs of color solidified into figures as his sight cleared, but his dazed processer still refused to focus.

Twin arcs of a Seeker's wings, rigidly straight and tense, spread out before him. They dipped and spun swiftly, and Skyfire had to force himself to look past their mesmerizing movement. A flicker of red, bright against the muted shades surrounding it, caught his optic. Skyfire stared, trying to remember why the shade sent up warning bells in his processer. Finally, the knowledge clicked into place, and the fog that had been smothering his thoughts evaporated.

The mech was a large Grounder. On his chest, the Autobot insignia was proudly displayed beside the symbol for the Iacon Enforcers. Thundercracker was trading blows with the blocky Enforcer. He moved much faster than his opponent, but the Seeker was still at a disadvantage. Bulky wings scraped and caught against the walls, and his lighter form was unable to match the brute force of his opponent.  As Skyfire watched, the Enforcer lunged forward, trying to force Thundercracker off-balance by mass alone, but he deflected the blow and pivoted neatly, keeping his frame firmly between his opponent and Skyfire.

Thundercracker was protecting him.

The realization thundered through Skyfire’s processer, finally banishing the last traces of the numbing fog. Pain immediately boiled up to fill the void, but his thoughts were clearer. Still oddly disjointed, but better. Skyfire moved to help him—or tried to at least. He didn’t even make it off the ground.

At first, his limbs barely even twitched. The pain splitting his processer magnified, but he resent the commands again and again. Inch by inch, he forced his arms to move until he had them pressed against the ground. Then he pushed as hard as he could, forcing his shoulders off the ground.

It was a mistake. 

Vertigo swamped his processer. The pain doubled, _trebled,_ until his processer almost shut down again. He immediately crashed back to the floor, panting harshly. Something sparked, and Skyfire felt something in his helm pop. The bitter taste of rust filled the back of his throat. 

Something was wrong with his head. Something was… The words escaped him, and his medical knowledge slipped away as he struggled to hold on. The energy pulse had done _something_ , and he didn’t know how to fix it _._ He could only lay there helplessly as he waited for the world to stop spinning _._ It didn’t.

But he had to get up.

Thundercracker was still fighting, and Skyfire refused to give up.

He forced his optics back online. Colors seemed oddly dim, and any movement made his vision swim. After a moment, his sight settled. Gritting his teeth, Skyfire tried moving again. He pushed through the vertigo, even as his vision swam and his limbs jerked uncontrollably. Somehow, he made it upright. He swayed, nearly tipping over, but his back hit something solid first. The couch—it was still behind him, and he leaned against it gratefully.

He didn’t even see the second Enforcer. Only heard the sound of a plasma rifle powering up behind his helm.

Skyfire jerked, but he didn’t get far. He found himself staring down the visibly charged barrel of a long rifle. The Enforcer’s systems were humming with charge, and the Autobot insignia spilled across his chest. His optics passed over his frame as if looking for something, and they darkened as they returned to his face.

"So you're the traitor," he hissed. There was disgust in the harsh twist of his expression. "Should've guessed it would be a _flyer_."

Skyfire heard Thundercracker yell his name as if from a distance, followed by a softer growl of frustration and the renewed sound of fighting. Skyfire didn’t look away from the Enforcer in front of him.

“I never-” he started to say, but his vocalizer cut out in a whine of static. He tried again. “I’m not… Not a, a _traitor._ ”

The Enforcer snorted. “Course not. That’s why you’re sheltering ‘Cons. Out of the kindness of your spark.”

“We’re-” he tried, but the Enforcer cut him off.

“Enough! I don’t want to hear you excuses,” he growled, brandishing the rifle. His sneer deepened. "I should save the higher ups the trouble and just get rid of you now." He scoffed. "Allying yourself with the Decepticons- too  _cowardly_  to take on the symbol _."_

Bracing himself, Skyfire lunged forward with some half-cocked idea of knocking the other mech’s weapon away. The Enforcer easily sidestepped Skyfire’s clumsy attack. Then his arm shot out, and the edge of the rifle slammed into Skyfire’s helm. His head whipped backwards, and Skyfire crumpled back against the couch. His audios rang, and his vocalizer spit static.  What little control he'd regained over his chassis vanished. He couldn’t even get a twitch out of his frame, let alone muster up the energy to fight.

“Pathetic,” the Enforcer muttered. His finger moved to the trigger.

Skyfire shuddered, but he didn’t look away. He… didn’t want to deactivate. Not like this. But he refused to give the Enforcer the satisfaction of seeing him beg. So he steeled his spark and met his gaze as evenly as he could.

Then he waited.

The moment stretched on. The weapon hung in Skyfire’s vision, large and crackling with energy. The Enforcers finger remained on the trigger, but he didn’t press down. Something that might have been indecision darkened his optics.

Skyfire never found out what the Enforcer would do. A furious shriek from behind them split the air, and the Grounder cursed and spun around. His weapon moved with him, but he didn't have time to fire before a whirlwind of enraged Seeker slammed into him. There was a sick crunch of metal on metal, and the Autobot let out a loud shriek of pain as the rifle was ripped out of his grip. It skittered across the floor in a bright spray of sparks, and the two mecha fell to the floor in a tangled mass of metal and armor. Purple plating, aching familiar, came out on top.

Stunned, Skyfire stared dumbly at the grappling mecha. He was still alive. Skywarp was here, and the Enforcer hadn’t…

Metal screeched, and Skyfire shook himself out of the daze. The danger wasn’t over yet. Skywarp tore into the Enforcer with wild abandon, shrieking threats and insults as he went. Surprise had given him the advantage, which he grimly maintained. His claws left long, dripping slashes in the Enforcer’s plating, but he didn’t have the strength to tear deeply into the reinforced armor. Already, the close combat grappling was wearing on him.

Skyfire’s fists clenched and, for a moment, he wished desperately that he was strong enough to help. To do anything besides sit here helplessly and watch his friends fight.

Something glimmered at the edge of his vision. He turned. There, lying against the wall, was the rifle that Skywarp had torn from the Enforcer’s arm. The barrel still sparked with residual charge. For a precious moment, Skyfire could only stare at the weapon in incomprehension. Then his logic center reasserted itself with a flurry of activity. In front of him, the fight continued unabated. Nobody was watching him.

The weapon was well out of his reach. His frame ached just thinking about moving again. Bracing himself against the wall, he did it anyway.

The worst of the pain, which had been reduced to a simmer, immediately resurfaced. Every inch was a struggle against the splitting pain in his processer and the numbness dragging at his limbs. He leaned heavily against the wall but, when his sensor net glitched, he nearly collapsed anyway. 

Finally, his fingers touched the handle. It was still warm with charge and heavy in his hand.  He managed to close his fist around the handle, but actually lifting the weapon was beyond his motor control. Eventually, with the end braced against the wall, he managed to leverage the barrel towards the fighting. He braced the back end against the wall, and the long barrel rested almost in his lap. He looked up, aiming the rifle towards the grappling mecha, and paused. The two mecha were tangled together so badly he could barely tell them apart. Firing now would be just as likely to harm Skywarp as the Autobot. So he watched, and he waited, and he tried to stop his fingers from trembling

 Then Skywarp shouted in pain as the Enforcer managed to get ahold of his wing, twisting the delicate metal. The two finally came to a stop as he pinned the Seeker to the ground with a triumphant roar. Skyfire had a clear shot. Without thinking, his finger jerked on the trigger. It fired.

The recoil reignited the agony in his sensors, but the blast hit the Autobot dead center. It knocked him off of Skywarp and he crashed into the far wall, where he crumpled into an unmoving heap.

The rifle clattered to the ground, falling from suddenly slack fingers. Skyfire couldn’t look away. Smoke curled up from the Enforcer’s motionless frame, and a sharp stench drifted across the room. Burnt circuitry.  Irrationally, Skyfire prayed the mech would stand up. Would twitch or groan-- _anything_ to prove he was still online.

He didn’t.

"Skyfire?" Skywarp's face appeared in front of him. Skyfire hadn't even noticed him approaching. "What’s wrong? What’d they do?

“Not sure,” Skyfire admitted, voice hoarse. Then he pushed weakly at Skywarp’s arm. “Go. Thundercracker…”

Skywarp glanced towards his Trinemate, and indecision warred on his face. “But you-”

“ _Go!_ ”

 With a soft whine, Skywarp went. He rejoined his Trinemate with a hoarse battle cry, and the clanging sounds intensified. They’d be alright. Two against one, the Seekers would be fine. Skyfire offlined his optics and leaned back against the wall. He was so tired… His frame ached miserably, and he just wanted to rest.

A loud, quickly silenced cry rose above the fighting. Then everything was silent, save for a quiet drip of energon hitting the floor. He heard footsteps then a thump as two frames kneeled beside him, and a pair of hands touched his shoulder. Skyfire barely twitched, even when the hand shook his plating.

“I don’t know what’s _wrong!_ ” Skywarp fretted. At the worry in his tone, Skyfire tried to online his optics, but they only flickered fitfully.

A third hand touched his helm, and Thundercracker spoke. “The Enforcers used some sort of disruptor before they broke down the door. Skyfire was closer to the source.”

On his second try, Skyfire managed to force his optics online. “I’m fine,” he croaked, staring blearily at them. “I just… just need some time.”

Thundercracker—why was his frame so _blurry_ , he was standing right there—was silent for a long moment. Then he turned to his Trinemate. “We need to get out of here. This place is going to be swarming with Enforcers soon.”

Something warm dripped down Skyfire’s neck. Energon. It wasn’t his. He stared hard at it, and the blurry image cleared. Dents and small wounds littered Thundercracker’s frame, and one arm was liberally streaked with energon. It still sluggishly leaked from a gaping slash across his bicep.

“You’re hurt,” Skyfire mumbled. He reached up. It took two tries for his hand to touch Thundercracker’s plating.

Thundercracker took his hand and gently lowered it again. “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” he said. The reassuring tone didn’t work, and Skyfire’s fingers twitched, longing for his tools.

Then Thundercracker turned to his Trinemate. "Skywarp?"

Skywarp bit his lip and ran a critical eye over Skyfire’s frame. "I don't know," he answered hesitantly. "'S a bad idea to 'port with damage, ‘specially internal stuff. The stress... "

“The Enforcers are coming. We don’t have a choice.” Then Thundercracker leaned close, patting Skyfire’s cheek until his optics focused on his face again. “Hey, Skyfire? ‘Fire?” he said. “We need to teleport out of here. Are you ready?”

Skyfire nodded weakly. “I have to be, don’t I?” He shifted, testing his motor control, and found it lacking. “I don’t think I can stand,” he said quietly, embarrassed by his lack of control.

Skywarp patted his arm. “That’s fine. I can do this sitting down as easily as standing.” He wrapped one arm around Skyfire’s shoulder and grabbed Thundercracker with the other. “Just hold on. It’ll all be over in a klik”

The world dissolved a purple haze, and Skyfire grit his teeth. The force of the warp pulled on his frame. He clung onto consciousness through sheer force of will, gritting his teeth through the pain and nausea. It only took a moment, but when they finally reappeared on solid ground, the two Seekers were the only thing keeping him upright.

Skyfire felt his sensor net fizzle oddly, heard Thundercracker's worried voice as if from a distance, and then unconsciousness took him once again.

~.*.~


	6. Fugitives

Fluid dripped from the cracked ceiling, trickling across pitted metal and bare girders. A droplet hung suspended at the end of a broken metal beam, quivering, before gravity pulled it down into the spreading puddle. Skyfire watched its progression with dull optics. He had little else to do in the wreckage of the old building.

His thoughts remained heavy in his processer, as if traveling through thick sludge, and his balance fared little better. He’d relearned how to stand, slowly and gracelessly, after cycles of excruciating practice, but anything requiring more dexterity was beyond him. Most of the time, he slept, and let the world blur past him.  

When the familiar buzz of a teleport echoed through the room, he didn’t even flinch anymore. Skywarp padded across the room and knelt down beside him.

“Hey, ‘Fire. How ya feeling?” he asked.

“Tired.”

Skywarp waited, but he didn’t elaborate. The only sound was the soft drips of water echoing endlessly around them. Skywarp sighed and slid down next to him, pressed up against the grimy wall. Their wings brushed. Silence lingered between them, heavy with words unspoken.

Skyfire stared blankly out in front of them. He didn’t even look at Skywarp when he spoke. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he admitted. “It still… It doesn’t seem real.” Sometimes, it felt as if he were trapped inside a bad memory purge. Everything had seemed distant since the attack, from the pain that never truly faded to the heaviness in his limbs.

“That mech… The Enforcer…” Skyfire’s voice broke. He swallowed heavily. “He was going to kill me. If you hadn’t been there, he would’ve…” He trailed off, unable to speak past the blockage that seemed stuck in his throat. Betrayal hung heavy in his spark. For all that he’d sympathized with the Decepticon cause, he’d still trusted the Enforcers. He’d believed in the Iaconian justice system, and in the Council’s platitudes about protecting its citizens.

He’d learned his lesson.

Skywarp cringed beside him, seeming almost to shrink under his guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice so low it was almost a whisper. “It’s our fault.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath and continued. “They came ‘cause of us. If we’d just left you alone after enlisting or been more careful about visiting, then this never would have happened. You’d still have your apartment and your lab, and you wouldn’t be hurt, and I-” His voice broke and, for a moment, his labored breaths were the only sound in the room. “I’m so slagging sorry.”

Skyfire wanted to tell Skywarp it was alright. That he didn’t blame them for what the Enforcers had done, or that he should have left Iacon for a more Neutral city long ago. The words stuck in his throat.

He couldn’t comfort someone right now. He didn’t have it in him, not when he was barely holding himself together anymore.

Yet, weak as he was, Skyfire couldn’t completely ignore Skywarp’s pain. He leaned closer, turning the faint brush of their wings into firm contact. Their arms brushed. Skywarp latched on with trembling fingers and, as the Seeker crumpled against him, Skyfire didn’t pull away. That, at least, he could do.

-/-

Something cool touched Skyfire’s forehead, and he groaned. His processer reluctantly broke free from stasis, but his optics remained offline even as he pressed into the light contact.  His helm was hot from his overclocked self-repair, and his processer ached fiercely.

Metal creaked beside him. Someone sighed. “He’s not getting better,” Skywarp said. The hand disappeared from Skyfire’s frame. “I don’t think self-repairs gonna cut it. Not like this.”

Something shifted beside him, and Thundercracker’s voice joined his Trinemate. “I know,” he said, voice tight.

“We need a real medic. One that can fix whatever’s slagged up in his processer.”

“I slagging _know_ , alright?” Metal groaned as Thundercracker stood, and footsteps crossed the room as he started to pace. “I’m doing everything I _can._ I’ve tried calling in favors and bribes and everything I can think of, but it’s not working!”

At the distress in his tone, Skyfire finally onlined his optics. Several kliks passed before they focused enough for him to make out Thundercracker’s form across the room. Skywarp still kneeled beside him, but his attention was on his Trinemate.

“TC…” Skywarp tried as he stood.

Thundercracker cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. “I’ll figure something out,” he promised. “I swear it.” Then he turned and set off towards the partially collapsed doorway.

Skywarp jerked towards him. “Hey! Hey, wait, at least let me--” he shouted, but, before the words left his mouth, Thundercracker activated his thrusters and was gone.  Skywarp stared after him then let his weight thump back to the ground.

Skyfire tried to sit up. “’Warp?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

The Seeker jumped and twisted to face him. “Skyfire? You’re- Careful!” he exclaimed as the Shuttle wobbled.  Skywarp steadied him until his balance returned. Skyfire didn’t look away from where Thundercracker had disappeared.

“Where’s he going?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Skywarp said. His smile was strained even as he tried to be reassuring. “Don’t worry. TC can take care of himself.”

 Skyfire nodded but remained unconvinced. At Skywarp’s prompting, he rested his weight against the wall behind him. Unfortunately, he needed the support. Time and self-repair had helped, but, with damage like this, it could only do so much. Processer damage was always difficult to repair.

He’d barely woken up, but already his processer was starting to glitch again. He breathed deeply, hoping the vertigo would pass, but it didn’t. Instead, it worsened, turning into true pain. He tried to keep the grimace from his face, but Skywarp noticed immediately. He touched Skyfire’s shoulder, softly at first then harder.

“Hey. _Hey!_ ” Skywarp said, growing louder when Skyfire didn’t acknowledge him. _“_ What’s wrong?”

Skyfire shook his head, wincing as the movement worsened the pain, and tried to brush Skywarp’s worried hands aside. “It’s not important. I’m fine,” he said.

Skywarp huffed and scooted closer. “C’mon, ‘Fire. Don’t lie to me.”

Skyfire wouldn’t meet his eyes. His head pounded, but it was dread that blocked his throat. Skywarp waited for him to speak, patient yet undeniable.

“It’s getting worse,” Skyfire admitted quietly. He was recharging now more than ever, and the pain wasn’t improving. It almost seemed to be worsening, even as his balance haltingly returned. Worry clawed at his spark whenever he allowed himself to think about the damage. He tried not to.

He swayed again, even with the solid metal wall against his back. He violently denied his processer’s attempts to reinitiate stasis. He’d slept long enough and missed too much already. Yet, the demands of his frame couldn’t be ignored. Against his will, his systems began shutting down.

Skywarp helped him lie down again.  “Rest,” he said while Skyfire’s optics flickered. “We’ll take care of you. Promise.”

Skyfire frowned. He wanted to ask how—wanted to know what the Seekers were thinking and where they were going when they left. Whether they were safe. Despite his questions, his vocalizer refused to form the words. Soon enough, his processer’s demands for recharge grew undeniable, and he sank back into oblivion.

-/-

Another orn passed, though Skyfire barely remembered it. His memories of those cycles were blurred and faded, half corrupted from pain and unrepaired damage. Mostly, he remembered the Seekers. Red optics and blue or purple wings seemed to surround him during his few, blurred periods of consciousness. 

Skyfire’s next clear memory was of a small, closed room.  His optics onlined at the slightest suggestion of a command, and Skyfire stared up at a clean, dry ceiling. He blinked, and his optics functioned seamlessly. The ceiling was colored a pale blue, which extended down the blank walls. He wasn’t alone. Thundercracker sat in a small chair beside the berth. His head drooped, precariously balanced on one hand, and he seemed to be deeply asleep. Skyfire reached over to touch him, a dozen questions on his lips, and froze.

The pain was gone.

The unending ache had cleared. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Skyfire’s thoughts were clear and easy. His processer wasn’t weighed down by a numbing fog, nor crippled by the ceaseless pain. He sat up, and his limbs responded immediately. For a full breem, Skyfire offlined his optics and just basked in the sensation of finally feeling _whole_ again.

Then, with fingers that had lost their tremble, he reached over and touched Thundercracker’s shoulder. The Seeker jerked and nearly fell, catching himself at the last moment. His optics immediately found Skyfire’s, and a brilliant, if tired, smile lit up his face.

“Hey,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Skyfire answered, and was surprised to find it was true. He glanced around the room, noting a single, closed door and little else. “Where are we?”

“A small clinic in Crystal City,” Thundercracker said. “I called in some favors. We’re safe here.”

Skyfire knew little about Crystal City. It was technically Autobot controlled, though far enough from the main conflict to be almost Neutral in practice. It was the perfect place to hide out and recover away from the war. Better than he’d ever dared hope of getting. Struck speechless, Skyfire reached over and pulled Thundercracker into a rough embrace, tight enough that the smaller Seeker’s armor creaked.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice tight with emotion. “ _Primus_ , Thundercracker.”

Thundercracker’s breath hitched, and then he returned the embrace just as fiercely. “I’m just glad you’re alright,” he said.

Thundercracker’s frame was a comforting weight against Skyfire’s plating, warm and vibrant in a way so little had been for too long. Something drifted through the back of Skyfire’s processer—a ghost of a memory, of white wings and harsh laughter and a frame that had fit so perfectly beside his own. Ice ached in his spark before Skyfire banished the memory fragment.

As he released Thundercracker, Skyfire’s hand brushed lower against his side, and felt something oddly rough under his hand. Thundercracker flinched away. Immediately concerned, Skyfire pulled away and stared. Stark weld lines marked Thundercracker’s side, red and raw.

“You’re hurt!” he exclaimed. The damage had been skillfully repaired, but it had been deep. Dangerous. “What happened?”

Thundercracker shook his head. He shifted, hiding the damage from sight. “Nothing you have to worry about,” he said. “I just had to take care of some things. It’s finished now.”

Suddenly, Skywarp’s absence from the room seemed much more important. “Where’s your Trinemate?” he asked. Worry clenched his fists against the berth.

“He’s just delivering a package. Nothing dangerous.”

“The same way that wasn’t dangerous?”  Skyfire asked, staring pointedly at Thundercracker’s side.

Thundercracker didn’t answer. Skyfire sighed.

“We’re not really safe here, are we,” he asked quietly. Disappointment curled in his spark, and Thundercracker flinched.

“We are right now,” he said, with enough conviction that Skyfire believed it was the truth. Just not all of it.

“And for how much longer will that last?” Skyfire asked pointedly.

 Guilt flickered across Thundercracker’s face, and he glanced away. “Two orns.  I could only buy us two orns,” he admitted.

The confirmation hit Skyfire hard. Two orns. It seemed like so little time—barely enough for repairs to integrate, let alone figure out what to do next. The empty, private room took on new meaning, and Skyfire tensed, glancing around them nervously.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “We’re halfway across the world! The Iacon Enforcers can’t reach us here.  Why would anyone here even care about what happened?

Thundercracker wouldn’t meet his eyes. That was the first sign that something was truly wrong, even in this slagheap of a situation. He said, “The council publicized the hunt. Turned it into a big news spectacle soon as we escaped. It’s not just Iacon anymore—Enforcers from every Autobot sympathizing city are looking for you.” He paused, almost timid as he glanced up. “I’m sorry.”

Skyfire was speechless. He sank back in the berth, looking away from the Seeker. His processer pounded, from stress instead of damage this time. When he raised his hand , it was shaking. Even as he clenched his fists and balled them in his lap, the tremors remained.

“Why?” Skyfire croaked. “I work for the Academy. I haven’t even touched anything interesting in vorns. What kind of intel could I possibly have been passing on to the Decepticons that was so slagging important?”

 “They needed a scapegoat. That’s all. Those slaggers…” Thundercracker cut himself off before he said more, but fury burned unabated in his optics. More composed, he continued, “People are getting restless. The Council wanted something they could show off to prove they’re still powerful.”

Such a stupid reason. Juvenile, almost, like a youngling frantically hiding a mistake instead of fixing it. Yet, it meant Skyfire was essentially exiled, not only from Iacon but nearly every city on the Northern hemisphere.

“What now? Where do we go after this?” he asked, fearing the answer.

Instead, Thundercracker responded with another question. “What do you want?”

To go home. Back to his apartment and his labs and the comfort of his routine. His subspace held his most treasured possessions, a carryover from his vorns as an interstellar explorer, but his entire life had been in that apartment. He’d lost so much when the enforcers came and, in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back.

Of course, that was impossible.

Thundercracker, sensing the dark turn of his thoughts, leaned closer. “Tell me what you want, and I swear I’ll make it happen. No matter what.”

Staring into Thundercracker’s shining optics, Skyfire believed him. Yet… “At what cost?” he murmured. Nothing was ever free. Especially not now. He wasn’t oblivious. Thundercracker had bought them two orns, but he hadn’t said what the currency was. Based on Thundercracker’s injuries and Skywarp’s conspicuous absence, he could guess.

He wanted… He wanted a lot. But he wouldn’t put the other two in danger to get it.

Thundercracker sighed when Skyfire didn’t continue. “Just… Think about it, alright?” he asked. “We have almost two orn to make a decision.”

Skyfire nodded, though he had little intention of doing so. Sure, he’d try to figure out what to do next, but he wouldn’t rely on the Seekers. Not when Thundercracker seemed so willing to martyr himself for it. There’d been enough pain and sacrifice already. He was thoroughly sick of it.

-/-

Skyfire woke up when the door opened. He was on his side, face hidden from the door. Even as his optics flickered on, he stayed still and silent, listening carefully. Thundercracker shifted beside him, standing to greet the new arrival.

“You look terrible,” he said. “You were supposed to return cycles ago. What happened?”

A chair scrapped against the ground, and someone’s heavy frame thumped into it. Skywarp. “I kept running into the Enforcers. I had to take the stupid _tunnels_ to get back here,” he said. His voice was rough in exhaustion. He sighed. “I think they’re tracking my ‘ports.”

A harsh intake of air met him, and Thundercracker cursed. “How?”

Metal rustled as Skywarp shrugged. “Dunno. But they kept showing up every time I teleported, no matter what I tried, until I started sneaking around instead.” He groaned, scrubbing noisily at his face. “Probably something to do with the energy signature. I didn’t exactly stick around to ask questions.”

“Slag…”

Skywarp murmured his agreement. Then Skyfire felt the berth dip as the Seeker leaned against it. Something brushed against Skyfire’s side, barely there and gone just as quickly. “How’s he doing?” Skywarp asked. His voice had softened, which only made the exhaustion shine through stronger.

“Better,” Thundercracker said. “He woke up while you were gone. He’s still recovering, but he’s coherent again.”

“Good.”

They lapsed into silence, which lasted for several long breems. With his optics offline, Skyfire couldn’t read the Seekers well, but he could still feel the mounting tension in the air. Skywarp fidgeted beside him, smoothing his hands across the berth and twisting across the chair. Every so often, his fidgeting hand would brush against Skyfire’s plating. Despite his Trinemate’s distress, Thundercracker remained a quiet presence at the foot of Skyfire’s berth. He didn’t move or speak at all.

Skywarp broke first. “The slag are we gonna do, TC?” he asked. The chair creaked as he rocked his weight back, and Skyfire could almost see the worry on his face. “If I can’t even port us around, then-”

“We have two orns to plan. We’ll figure something out.”

Skywarp scoffed. “Yeah? Like what?”

Silence.

Skywarp’s fidgeting worsened. His vocalizer clicked without saying anything, as if the Seeker was fighting the words that wanted to come out. Finally, quietly, he said, “We can at least ask him.”

“ _No!_ ” Thundercracker hissed. _“_ You know how he feels about the war. I’m not going to pressure him.” His voice grew softer, regretful. “We’ve cost him enough.”

Skywarp didn’t back down. “We should at least give him all the info! He deserves that at least, right?” Thundercracker didn’t answer, so Skywarp continued heatedly. “The Autobots will just get us killed. The Neutrals won’t risk it for at least a vorn, and you know how the ‘Cons feel about Civvies.”

“I’ll figure something out. There’s always a way,” Thundercracker said.

Finally, curiosity got the better of him. Skyfire sat up, turning to see the rest of the room. As he’d expected, Skywarp was sitting beside his berth, and Thundercracker stood above him. Both stared at him in shock as he moved.

“Ask me what?” Skyfire asked mildly.

The Seekers exchanged glances. Thundercracker grimaced and looked away, shooting an annoyed look at his Trinemate. Something resembling panic crossed Skywarp’s face. He shifted, staring down at his hands, and his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. After a moment, Skyfire grew impatient.

“Skywarp…” he prompted. His gaze darted towards Thundercracker before returning to the other uncomfortable Seeker. “What are you two trying to-”

“Megatron’s recruiting Medics,” Skywarp blurted out. Then he froze, as if stunned by the words that had come from his own lips.

“What?” Skyfire breathed. Skywarp hunched lower in his seat, cringing as if expecting the Shuttle to lash out at him. Skyfire was too startled to react immediately. Slowly, still working past the incredulity in his processer, he said, “You can’t _possibly_ be suggesting I… I _enlist_ as a Decepticon?” The words sounded ridiculous. He was a scientist, not a soldier.

Thundercracker touched his arm, rubbing the plating as if soothing a wild animal. “Skywarp’s not suggesting anything. He’s just… considering every possibility. We have other-”

Skywarp cut in. “Options? Not really. You’re not helping by lying to him, TC,” he said harshly. Then he turned back to Skyfire, only hesitating a moment before speaking. “Right now, Autobot territory is too dangerous, and even Neutral settlements will be dicey for a long time. It’ll be vorns before the danger dies down. ‘Till then, any mistake will be fatal. You’re gonna need something to protect you, and we can’t do it on our own. We’re good, but we’re not that good.”

“I won’t fight for him,” Skyfire said coldly. He’d die first. A decaorn ago that would have been an empty statement. Not anymore. He still remembered the recoil of the blaster in his hand. The way the Enforcer had fallen.

“I know! That’s not what I’m-” he cut himself off, rubbing at his face. Then he started again. “Medics are valuable, especially to the ‘Cons. They’ve got few enough that are any good. Medics are protected; they don’t get sent to the Frontlines.” He paused then, earnestly, said, “They don’t have to kill.”

His wings fluttered nervously. Their tight, spiraling pattern worsened the longer Skyfire went without responding. “It’s not that different than what you’ve been doing for us, right?” he pleaded. “You’d just need to repair people. We’d get to stay with you, and you’d be protected by the entire army. You just-”

“Skywarp,” Thundercracker cut in, voice sharp but not unkind. “Shut up.”

Thankfully, Skywarp did. He said nothing and continued to do so, though the effort of remaining silent wore on him. The Seeker wanted to talk—to explain himself or make things right, anything to fill the silence. Thundercracker’s warning glances held him in check. No more words passed between them, not before Skyfire allowed himself to recharge and well into the next morning.

-/-

The medic came in soon after he woke. He was a short Grounder. His plating was brittle and color faded from age and energon deprivation, and his vocalizer crackled when he spoke. He performed a perfunctory examination, accessed Skyfire’s medical port, and was gone before a quarter cycle had passed. He stopped by Skywarp as he left, and they exchanged a few muffled words. Skywarp’s face fell, but it was Thundercracker’s expression that caught his optic. The other Seeker looked worried, and he glared at the medic with something suspiciously like anger.

When the medic turned back to the door, Skywarp followed. He only made it a step before hesitating, glancing back at Skyfire. Then he spun around and ran back to Skyfire’s berth. Reaching up, he folded his arms as far around Skyfire’s chest as he could reach, squeezing hard.

“I just don’t want you to die,” he mumbled into Skyfire’s plating. “I’m sorry.”

Then, with one last squeeze, he broke away, running after the medic again. Skyfire didn’t even get the chance to respond before he was gone. Thundercracker said nothing. He avoided Skyfire’s gaze. Out of guilt or worry, Skyfire couldn’t tell. Unable to sit still any longer, Skyfire stood, meaning to wander around the medbay or, really, anywhere else, but he didn’t get far. The door, which had slid closed after Skywarp, was locked.

“We’re not allowed to leave,” Thundercracker said. “Our host doesn’t want to risk word getting out. He’d be deactivated for treason as well.”

Skyfire’s spark ran cold, and his hand flinched away from the keypad like it was coated in acid. “Ah,” he said ineloquently and backed away. Pent-up, uneasy energy thrummed in his frame, worse now that he knew they were trapped. He paced instead, back and forth across the small floor until it seemed like he had every mechanoinch of the room memorized.

Cycles passed. Thundercracker left him alone with his thoughts, and Skyfire didn’t strike up a conversation either. Skywarp didn’t return before Thundercracker, exhausted, fell into an uneasy sleep on the berth. Then there was only the muted clack of his feet against the floor to fill the silence.

-/-

Half an orn passed—a fourth of their allotted time. Nothing changed. Sometimes Thundercracker was there; sometimes Skywarp was. Rarely, he had them both back. They spoke occasionally—Thundercracker with his halfhearted suggestions, Skywarp with his apologies and arguments—but mostly it was silent. He had a lot of time to think. Too much.

-/-

“I could leave,” Skyfire said once. He spoke the words aloud, but nobody heard him. Thundercracker was gone, and Skywarp slept on the berth. He’d moved the Seeker there after the first nightcycle, when it became clear they would sleep on the floor or in the chair before leaving him alone.

The words seemed to echo in the air—a stray thought given form by a few twists of his vocalizer. He could leave Cybertron altogether, if he wanted. He’d made another energon converter long ago, and he knew the stars well. He’d survived it before.

But the thought soured as soon as he voiced it. Space was vast and dark and so, so empty. He couldn’t tear the Seekers away from their war—wouldn’t, even if he could guilt them into it. Cybertron belonged to them, to the slow burn of trust and easy laughter in an empty apartment and the harsh, inexorable touch of the War, but the rest of the galaxy had been for him and Starscream. He couldn’t go back into that endless silence alone, nor could he stand traveling with a different Seeker, no matter how dear they’d become to him over the vorns.

Beside him, Skywarp was still sleeping. He always seemed young when he slept. Childish. He liked to sprawl, and his face was relaxed and open.  Every so often, he would snuffle softly and nuzzle the berth. Leaning over, Skyfire gently lifted a stray limb back onto the berth. He let his palm linger against the warm plating for a moment before pulling away.

He didn’t want to leave them. Never had. Not before the war, when their friendship was still new and strange, and especially not after enlistment, when every absence meant they were in danger.

Uneasy, Skyfire lay back down on the berth. By the time he drifted off again, his spark had settled into a steady, easy rhythm.

-/-

Starscream wouldn’t have run. He wouldn’t have hidden. He’d been too bright for that. Too strong and far too proud. He would never have let his Trinemates go off to war without him in the first place. He certainly wouldn’t have let them—let _anyone_ risk themselves protecting him.

Intensely, overwhelmingly, Skyfire wished Starscream was there, berating him for his cowardice and debating their future together. But he wasn’t. He never would be, and Skyfire had to face this crossroad alone.

-/-

On the dawn after the first orn, Skyfire made his decision.

“Alright. I’ll do it,” he said. His vocalizer was sore from disuse, but the words came out loud and clear. He’d waited for both Seekers to be together. This was a conversation all three of them should be there for.

Instead of looking happy, Skywarp just seemed confused. “What?” he gasped, staring at him in astonishment. His wings froze, high and tense on his back.

“I _said_ I’ll do it! I’ll enlist as a medic!” he repeated. At the declaration, a large lump of what felt like panic lodged in his throat. He swallowed, trying to clear it, but it only worsened.

Skywarp immediately stood. His steps were unsure, almost timid, as he approached. “Are you sure?” he asked, biting his lips.

“I’m sure,” Skyfire said. He sounded much more confident than he felt.

Thundercracker glanced between them, expression sour. “You know you don’t have to, right?” he asked.

Skyfire sighed. “Can you tell me, right here and now, another option half as good as this?” Skyfire asked. The words came slowly, weighed down by all the hopes and expectations he’d abandoned over the orn.

Thundercracker said nothing. Skyfire nodded, unsurprised. “Then I choose this.” Better than sitting here, waiting, or trying to sneak his way back into Autobot cities. Even before the war, Iacon hadn’t been kind to him in vorns. Not really. Nostalgia had kept him in the city, even after halfhearted friendships had been replaced by silence and suspicion. Even if he could hide, there was too much prejudice against Flyers, there or any Autobot city, to carve out a home.

Maybe now it was time to try something different.

Thundercracker still seemed uneasy. “You don’t have to rush. We still have an orn left,” he tried. “I… don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“I’ve made my decision. There’s no point waiting any longer.” Not when staying still seemed to be costing the Seekers. And, if he lingered, he was afraid he’d lose his courage.

Thundercracker was frowning, but he didn’t argue. “Alright. We’ll make it happen,” he said. “We’ll need a few cycles at base to make sure you’re listed with us, but-”

“Can you do it now?”

Thundercracker hesitated. “I.. suppose. Are you-”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Skyfire interrupted, already tired of the question.

Thundercracker looked at his Trinemete, and Skywarp nodded. Then the purple Seeker stood and followed Thundercracker to the door.

Skywarp paused before they left and smiled. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

And they were gone. Skyfire sank back heavily on the berth. Now that he was alone, he gave in, letting his wings tremble and burying his head in his hands. It was done. No going back. He was going to be a Decepticon. No—not a ‘Con: a _medic._ That was a much safer word.

He’d made the right decision. He knew he had.

(Maybe if he said it enough, he’d actually believe it)

~.*.~


	7. Acclimation

“You pit slagging glitch! A fragging  _drone_ has more sense than you, and you take up my valuable time with his scrap?”

Skyfire froze as the med-bay doors slid open, releasing what sounded like a verbal evisceration into the hallway. The tirade continued unabated, punctuated periodically by… was that the sound of someone being hit with a blunt object? Scrap. For a moment, Skyfire was tempted to step back outside and leave the medics to… whatever it was they were doing, But he had his orders, and he wouldn’t give up before he even started. So he took that last step inside, allowing the door to slide closed behind him.

 “Hello?” he called, glancing awkwardly around the room. “My designation is Skyfire. I’m supposed to start training here?”

Amazingly, nobody seemed to have noticed the Shuttle walking in nor heard his voice. Then again, everyone’s attention—and audios—were taken up by the Grounder, plating inscribed with the glyphs for Chief Medic of the base, yelling obscenities at a far larger Tank missing half his leg. As he watched, the Medic took the ratchet he was holding and thwacked the Tank in the chest, directly above a sensor cluster. The Tank yelped and snarled at him but didn’t retaliate.

 Skyfire stepped further into the room, scatting along the outer wall. His optics were locked on the arguing duo, who still hadn’t noticed anything else.

“You’re Skyfire?” Somebody asked directly beside him, Skyfire jumped and glanced down to find an even smaller mech staring up at him. His plating was a muted purple and also marked as a medic.

Skyfire nodded, vocalizer tight with nerves, and the Grounder continued. “My designation is Cadence, and the mech to your left is Steelwire.”

"Is he always, ah-" he trailed off, not quite willing to risk actually insulting the mech who would be his superior officer. Steelwire, as he was called, looked like he was about a klik from picking up part of the Tanks disassembled leg and bludgeoning him over the head with it.

Cadence glanced over and shrugged, completely nonplussed by the display. "Yes," he said bluntly. "Steelwire has little tolerance for injuries caused by stupidity. That mech picked a fight with a Special Ops mech. It was a regrettably poor decision."

Skyfire didn't know quite what to say to that, so he said nothing. Cadence didn't seem to mind. Motioning him forward, Cadence led him toward the back of the room, where a variety of equipment was stored. As they walked, Cadence started talking again. "You enlisted as a medic. What type of training have you had?"

"I haven't had any formal training," he admitted warily. "I… used to be a scientist in the Iacon Academy, and I taught myself what I could about medicine. I was able to create some rudimentary medical programs based on what I found.”

Cadence made a thoughtful noise. "Let me see them," he said.

He opened up the medical dataport on his arm and unspooled a thin cable from it, holding the end up expectantly. Skyfire hesitated for a moment with his hand above his own dataport, but he took the offered cable and plugged it in. The link was unexpectedly professional, and he sent a copy of his programs over before quickly closing the link. Cadence stilled as he flicked through the codes, and Skyfire waited nervously for him to finish.

Cadence's optics gave a brief flicker when he was done. "Huh. Better'n I expected, honestly. You're pretty decent at coding. Did you notice any problems with them?"

Skyfire shook his head. "They're rather slow and can’t break through firewalls, but they perform their function well enough."

Cadence made another thoughtful noise and opened his mouth to say something else, but then he paused, looking at something just outside Skyfire's field of vision. It took Skyfire a moment to realize the shouting on the other side of the room had stopped. By then, Steelwire was nearly beside them.

Steelwire looked him over disdainfully. "So you're the new mech," he said. "I'll be in charge of teaching you, so hopefully you're not too inept."

He turned away before Skyfire had a chance to respond, which was good considering he had no clue how to respond, and looked at Cadence instead. Both medics stilled in the familiar movement of someone having a conversation over their 'coms.

Steelwire made a low grunt that might have been slightly approving, but it didn't last long. "Open your dataport," he ordered. "If I'm going to be teaching you then you better know at least the slagging basics first."

Skyfire really didn't want to give the mech access to his processor but, with Thundercracker's advice to obey any instructions ringing in his audios, he reluctantly opened the medical dataport again. The medic plugged in without even asking permission, sent a large databurst across the link, and removed his cable as quickly as he'd entered.

"Study that until you know what the pit you're doing," he said and then, grumbling under his breath, turned around and made his way back to the damaged and furious tank. Skyfire watched him go and, with a short, clipped rebuke, sit back down next to his patient.

"You get used to him," Cadence said. "Worst he'll do is yell at you if you mess up or throw something if you really do something stupid. We're too useful to damage."

“And if you’re not useful?” Skyfire asked.

Cadence tapped Skyfire’s dataport. “Memorize those files, and you won’t have to worry about it,” he said. "Besides, he's not actually as violent as he seems. He knows that any damage he does to us or his patients he'll just have to repair later anyway."

Skyfire cautiously opened the file Steelwire had sent him. To his surprise, it was filled with dozens of schematics for different frametypes. It held groundframes and airframes, Tanks and Helicopters and more. All of them were military. He opened up file to find that the schematics contained extensive notes about the build, and he marveled at the detail.

Another part of the file contained long, elegant codes: official copies of medical programming. The one he was looking at was a sensor block, complete with all the advanced programming and overrides that characterized certified medical codes. If he had to guess, he'd say they originated in Iacon.

The new programs fit easily into his processor, sliding into place with an ease he hadn't felt in vorns. He resolved to experiment with them later to get a feel for the differences from his clumsy versions. With one last mental check, he accessed one of the unfamiliar schematics and started analyzing how the average Grounder's frame differed from what he'd learned of airframes.

-/-

“How was the first day? Med-bay treat you well?” Skywarp asked. His head lifted from where he’d been lounging on the berth, and he grinned up at Skyfire. Thundercracker, who’d been relaxing in a chair, stood as well.

“It was… enlightening,” Skyfire said. It was the kindest word he could think of. The medical programs and data had been fascinating, at least, though the company left much to be desired. He didn’t belong there, in a med-bay where casual violence was normal. Not now, anyway. Probably never.

Thundercracker frowned and moved closer. “You get used to it,” he said. He meant it as a reassurance.

It felt more like a threat.

But Skyfire just nodded and tried to smile. He joined Thundercracker at the chairs; for once, one was large enough for him to sit comfortably. Not even his lab at Iacon had managed that.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked. He had his own room, but the Seekers had wrangled him a place adjacent to their own quarters. He wasn’t quite sure how, considering the vast majority of the wing had been designed for Trines, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Skywarp shook his head. “Nah. Only a few breems.” His lips curled in an impish grin. “You’ve got a comfortable room here! I might make a habit of sneaking in!”

Skyfire laughed. “You’re welcome here anytime,” he promised.

The conversation eased into something comfortable. After the med-bay, it was wonderful to sit and relax again. The Seekers’ voices were reassuringly familiar as they spook, and they intentionally steered clear of any difficult topics. None of them needed an argument just then, after the pain of the past several orns.

Skyfire absentmindedly rubbed at the armor over his chest. Thundercracker’s optics followed the movement, wings just beginning to dip in concern, and Skyfire lowered his arm. For the rest of the cycle, he kept both hands locked in his lap.

His spark was starting to twinge again, which was… unfortunate. The attacks happened less frequently now, but they were still frighteningly intense. It would be more difficult to hide them here in the base than in his old apartment. He’d manage, though.

He always did.

-/-

The attack came and went one night cycle, and Skyfire came out of it no worse for wear. Lethargic, perhaps, but if it showed, nobody commented on it. Skyfire spent most of the next several orns in the med-bay, learning how their med-bay was run. It was… informative, to say the least. And very much different from what he was used to.

He'd already gotten a taste of Steelwire's style of healing, so his impatient bluster didn’t surprise him. What was surprising, however, was just how skilled the mech was. Steelwire was a far better medic than Skyfire had expected. He was quick and precise, though he lacked patience. He'd once asked Cadence whether Steelwire was Iacon-trained. Cadence just laughed. Steelwire was, apparently, from Kaon, and he had been a medic in one of the Gladiator pits before joining up with the revolt.

Beside Steelwire’s volatile personality, Cadence tended to fade into the background. Of course, as Skyfire soon discovered, Cadence was just as much of a Decepticon as anyone else.

Skyfire’s first real emergency came after a patrol survived a scuffle with the Autobots. Skyfire technically hadn’t been cleared to work with patients yet, but there’d been three casualties there and only him and Cadence available.

“You handle him,” Cadence ordered, motioning towards a rather dazed looking mech with moderate damage to his plating. “Even you should be able to deal with that.”

Then, without waiting for an agreement, he marched over to the remaining two and manhandled them to the berths. One of the mecha had been grazed with a high-powered energon blast, leaving him with blistered armor and fused lines–exceptionally painful damage, but not dangerous. The other was in danger from rupturing a major energon line in his leg. Cadence was patching up the second.

The first one didn’t like that.

As soon as Cadence started ignoring him, the mech grabbed him and tried to force the smaller Medic away from his patient. Skyfire hesitated, wondering if he should help, but he needn’t have worried. As soon as the first mech’s hand touched his shoulder, Cadence spun around with a laser scalpel clutched in one hand. A klik later, the mech collapsed to the floor with his central motor relay sliced clean through. Cadence tossed him, screaming obscenities, onto one of the berth.

Then the Medic calmly returned to work, ignoring the increasingly hysterical yells.

Skyfire dithered with his own patient before the unabated pain in the other’s voice got to him. He ‘commed Cadence. :Want me to sedate him for you?: he asked, sneaking a glance at the other’s motionless form.

Cadence didn’t even look up. :Don’t be such a softspark,: he said. :He needs to learn his lesson about slagging off a medic.:

Cadence eventually got around to adding the sensor block and repairing the mech. After he'd completely finished his teammate's repairs, cleaning off the berth, and rearranging his tools. Skyfire was long since down with his own patient, who was now resting in stasis, but a sharp rebuke had stopped him from interfering.

Eventually, when the repairs were done and the med-bay clean, Cadence pulled him aside.

"You're going to need to figure some things out if you want to survive here," he started, guiding Skyfire to the back of the room for some privacy.

"Being a medic for the 'Cons isn't what you're used to," he started. "They won't follow your orders if you don't make them. They won’t _respect_ you if you let yourself get pushed around by any old grunt with delusions of grandeur. And once the respect is gone, the threats and weapons come out and you’ll end up in the slagheap within an orn We've got orders from above protecting us, but that doesn't mean slag if they think they can get away with something."

The medic rapped lightly on Skyfire's armor, creating a loud clang and drawing his attention to the thick metal. "You've got it easier because of your size and armor," he continued. "You just need to learn how to use it right.”

Cadence stared at him in challenge, but Skyfire couldn’t meet his optics. The worst part was, Cadence was right. He already knew more than enough about the Decepticon’s ever-changing hierarchy and the dangers of being near the bottom. If he wanted to stay out of the bids for power, he needed a way to enforce it. Yet…  

"I can't use your method," he admitted. "I… my spark won't allow me to harm another mech just to prove a point."

Cadence shrugged, surprising Skyfire with how easily he accepted the statement. "Then find your own way of getting their respect," he said. "Just don't let yourself get a reputation for being soft, because you'll regret it."

Skyfire nodded absentmindedly, troubled. He'd have to ask Skywarp and Thundercracker’s opinion as well, but he was starting to trust Cadence's advice. He wasn't unnecessarily cruel, and Skyfire doubted the medic would be intentionally trying to mislead him.

His processor returned to the smooth way Cadence had cut the unruly patient's motor controls. The mech had been quickly and easily disabled, and the damage wasn't painful in itself, just exceedingly unpleasant. If he could learn how to do that, then maybe… He set the thought aside as something to experiment with when he had the chance. Just in case.

-/-

Skyfire grunted as he was thrown off his feet and landed hard onto his back. Again. For a few kliks, he lay there as he waited for his equilibrium to return and the room to stop spinning. Even with the thick, interstellar travel-grade armor, his frame ached from the repeated blows. The center of his chest in particular throbbed where the new, sensitive Decepticon brand now sat.

The two Seekers hadn't wasted any time before starting to train him. As soon as they had a free cycle, Thundercracker had dragged him to an empty practice room to teach him self-defense. He had new respect for the Seeker's fighting ability now. Skyfire had to be double Thundercracker's weight and half again as tall, yet the Seeker had laid him out flat on the floor at least a dozen times in a single cycle.

Skyfire turned his head towards the sounds of Thundercracker’s footsteps, and his vision was taken up by the sight of two blue thrusters approaching his head. His gaze traveled up an immaculate blue paintjob with barely a scratch on it until he reached Thundercracker’s head.

"You're balance still needs work," Thundercracker said. He reached one hand down to help Skyfire off the ground.

Skyfire gave him a self-depreciating smile and a nod. "So does everything else," he said as he took the offered hand and slowly stood. His sore frame protested the movement.

Thundecracker grimaced but didn't argue. It was true, after all. Skyfire was abysmal at fighting. He knew it. They knew it. He just… didn't have the spark to attack anyone with any real intent, which meant he could barely use his greatest advantage: his size. Thundercracker tried to help him improve with his extensive knowledge of fighting techniques. It… wasn't really working.

He wouldn't have felt so bad if Thundercracker was fighting him normally. The Seeker was incredibly quick on his feet and had probably found a thousand chances to get a knife against Skyfire’s main energon lines. Instead, Thundercracker had decided to beat him by using his inherent strength against him and practically throwing him around the room in an unsuccessful attempt at improving his stance and balance. Pit, Skyfire hadn't thought it was physically possible for the lightweight Seeker to toss him off his feet. Now he knew better.

Skyfire fell back into one of the basic stances—one of the few things he could actually do—but this time, instead of getting into his own stance, Thundercracker shook his head and gestured for him to stand down.

"That's enough for now," he said.

Skyfire groaned in relief and finally relaxed, taking the time to stretch his sore components. "How did you get so good at hand to hand?" he asked. "I can't imagine you spend much time fighting or even training on the ground."

Starscream had always hated being trapped on the ground and, like most Seekers, never bothered to learn that style of combat. Thundercracker wasn't an expert at hand to hand by any means, but he was still good enough to hold his own.

Thundercracker just shrugged. "It's always a good idea to know the basics."

From his spot on the side of the room, Skywarp walked over. Thundercracker was his primary teacher, but Skywarp wasn't against occasionally joining in. Besides, he was rarely far from his wingmate.

The Seeker casually draped himself against his trinemate's back. "And Primus knows TC always prepares for  _everything,_ " he snickered.

Thundercracker shook his head at his wingmate, but a small smile danced at the edges of his lips. "C'mon. Let's head to the shooting range. You've been steadily improving with that." He took a few steps away, ignoring the squawk from Skywarp as the movement nearly sent him toppling over.

The suggestion actually coaxed a smile from the Shuttle. He was abysmal at sparing, but he was at least a decent shot. His hands were steady and his frame strong enough to handle the more dangerous weapons. While he would never call himself truly skilled, he was at least accurate enough not to embarrass himself. Besides, the larger the blast radius of a weapon, the less accuracy mattered, and the Decepticons had many large weapons.

The shooting range was only half a breem away from the sparring rings, just long enough for his overheated systems to cool down and for the overstressed tremble in his arms to fade. Skywarp chattered lightly at them as they walked. Skyfire tuned out the purple Seeker's half-hearted complaints and cheerful stories, absentmindedly rubbing at the recently installed weapons mount on his shoulder. Even empty, the weight was still a constant reminder of its presence.

Skyfire had reluctantly agreed to the unpleasant addition at the Seeker’s insistence, trusting the two's knowledge of the war. He'd still refused several of their more elaborate suggestions as well as anything that would compromise the precision of his hands. Instead, he’d chosen the basics. The weapons mounts had been simple additions, though they were still new. Eventually they would feel like just another part of him. For now, though, they felt more like an unwelcome parasite.

Once the programming settled, he would get a powerful, thin cannon added to the mount, one that could transform and be concealed under his armor. He already had a long-range rifle and a few other basic weapons in his sub-space, where he much preferred carrying the weapons.

When they arrived, the firing range was near empty. He took a section on the far end of the range and settled down into the familiar, repetitive motions of assembling, aiming, and firing.

~.*.~

 


	8. The Great War

Tangled Destiny

Chapter 8: The Great War

-/-

There was an art to dealing with injured 'Cons. Every medic had their own variation—their own signature style—for dealing with the trained warriors who entered their domain. Blatant—albeit minor—damage? Steelwire. Emotional trauma or subtle ‘mistakes?’ Probably Cadence. In the end, though, they all boiled down to the same three tenets: intimidation, casual violence, and useful tricks.

Skyfire was not overly fond of any of them.

He quickly learned that, for some mecha, it was simplest to offline them immediately and work on their stasis-ridden frames instead of dealing with their conscious struggles. His bulk helped with that—by the time mecha found the courage to try intimidating him, Skyfire already had system access and was only a klik away from knocking them out.

It worked for him.

Cadence disapproved of such a ‘soft’ method, of course. Skyfire ignored him.

On the rare occasions he didn’t have a patient to deal with, Skyfire tended to putter around the med-bay or, if he was really lucky, take out some of his old projects. Of course, with only three medics and one med-bay for the small base, free time never lasted long.

“Skyfire, come here!” Cadence shouted as he moved towards the front of the med-bay. “We’ve got two mecha coming in. Some sort of experimental weapon malfunction.”

Skyfire nodded, subspaced his datapad, and reached the med-bay entrance just in time to meet the patients. Cadence claimed the first victim, a cyclebot with half his plating eaten through, and left Skyfire with a helicopter suffering from severe heat damage.

Skyfire automatically applied a sensor block as he wheeled the ‘Copter over to his station. The visible damage was ugly, with exposed internals and seeping wounds, but the main problem was his malfunctioning cooling system. Skyfire removed some plating to reach the damaged lines beneath, and he started welding what he could and replacing what he couldn't.

“You’re a calm one, aren’t you,” Skyfire murmured as he worked. The ‘Copter didn't curse him out, fight, or even squirm at the feel of his damaged armor being peeled away. Skyfire made a note to check for processer or sensory damage later. He wished he had the quarter breem necessary to knock him out completely, but that would have to wait until the cooling system was stable.

“You were very lucky,” he told the docile mech. “A little deeper, and you’d have likely bled out before reaching me.” He turned to grab a new bit of piping, methodically stripping the protective film away with his back towards the berth. “I wonder what type of weapon you were working on? A plasma-based device, perhaps? Or maybe a-”

A sudden, sharp line of pain across Skyfire’s throat silenced him. He froze. Dropped the piping. He wasted a moment realizing that was a knife pressing against the thin plating. Instinct had him knocking the blade away with one hand before his mind even caught up, and a thin trickle of energon dripped down his armor.

With an animalistic roar of rage, the ‘Copter dove away from him. He nearly fell off the berth before getting his legs under him. Skyfire stood up slowly, trying not to spook the other mech.

The ‘Copter muttered something incoherently and swayed lightly on his feet—definitely processer damaged, then. His optics were dim and unfocused, and the knife was held loosely in his hand. The tip of the blade drifted through the air as the hand holding it trembled. Skyfire reached slowly towards him, hoping to coax the mech back onto the berth and into stasis, but the movement caused the mech's optics to focus on his frame. He charged.

Their frames collided with an almighty crash. Skyfire kept his balance but not much else. His limbs felt large and unwieldy as he blocked the ‘Copters attack. The mech was slow from the damage, but he was still a trained soldier. They knew how to cause damage, and the knife remained clasped in his hand.

Then the helicopter stumbled as one of his hydraulics misfired. Skyfire managed to pin the mech to his chest, arms locked to his side and knife safely out of reach from the more lightly armored portions of his frame.

The knife still left shallow scratches in his plating as he struggled—thin, brief lines of pain that prickled over Skyfire’s sensor net and faded almost immediately. Skyfire nearly managed to pin his hands. Then the ‘Copter twisted, nearly dislodging Skyfire’s grip altogether, and Skyfire let out a shout as intense pain suddenly radiated up his side.

Skyfire let go.

His optics dropped to his side, where the pain was strongest. Through luck or skill, the knife had lodged in a seam just above his hip. The angle was bad and shallow enough that the damage was minimal, but the pain was a sharp shock to his sensor net.

The ‘Coptor took advantage of the distraction, sending them both crashing to the floor with a well-placed kick. As they fell, the mech managed to get one hand around Skyfire’s neck, but he was weak enough he only managed to push lightly before Skyfire dislodged him.

They scrabbled on the ground in a chaotic tangle of limbs and metal before Skyfire managed to pin the other mech under his bulk. He could feel the unhealthy heat coming off of the mech in waves where their armor touched, and his side screamed at him with every movement. The 'copter was still struggling against him, limbs scrabbling wildly against the floor as his rotors twisting weakly, but Skyfire had his frame held down securely.

The ‘Copter’s neck flexed underneath him, and Skyfire could see where the thick web of energon and hydraulic lines was hidden under the thin plating. Skyfire had a brief moment of regret for his laser scalpel, which was halfway across the room along with the rest of his tools. Then, with only a moment’s hesitation, he freed one hand and reached back for the knife still embedded in his plating.

The knife slid out with a powerful stab of pain, but he got it out. With one smooth motion, he turned the handle to get a better grip on the energon slicked surface and brought the blade up to the mech's pinned head. He knew exactly which wire clusters to cut to disconnect motor control, and the mech immediately stilled underneath him. He stayed there for a few kliks longer to be sure before standing up.

The 'copter laid there limply, frame unmoving and optics blazing with an unfocused fury. Skyfire sighed and leaned down to pick up the mech's frame. He deposited the frame on the medical berth before opening up the helicopter's medical port and checking the sensor blocks. The mech had also managed to reopen the damage to his energon lines and was leaking sluggishly, but self-repair would close it up within half a breem.

Skyfire jumped when he heard Cadence's voice behind him.

"When you've got that moron back on the berth, can you hold this joint still for me?" Cadence asked nonchalantly. Skyfire turned at the sound of his voice and just stared at the mech in disbelief. Cadence was still sitting beside the mech he was working on, blithely continuing with his work as if nothing had happened.

"Is… there any reason you decided  _not_  to help when my patient attacked me?" he asked. He decided he could safely ignore Cadence's request for help.

Cadence shrugged. "Eh. You needed to learn how to deal with the out of control ones sometime." He glanced over. "I'll patch up that slice for you once we're done dealing with these two. I’d keep the neck wound though. Show them you managed to survive your first fight."

Skyfire stared at him speechlessly for a few moments, and then he felt the inexplicably urge to laugh. It was… ridiculous. A klik ago he'd been wrestling on the ground with a knife stuck in his side, and Cadence had kept working like nothing had happened, and that their patients trying to deactivate them was completely normal. For all he knew, it  _was_ normal around here.

"Alright," he said, more to himself than anything. Then he leaned over to finish the repairs, ignoring the way the movement pulled on the new damage to his side. His hands didn’t stop shaking for cycles, long after the ‘Copter was removed and his shift ended. When he left the med-bay, he kept the laser scalpel in his sub-space.

-/-

That was the first time Skyfire cut a patient’s motor relays. It wasn’t the last. The second time—and third, and fourth—Skyfire was prepared. No struggle, no mess, just an arm raised in violence then a quick snip of a line. He still much preferred knocking them out before it became an issue, but it wasn’t a bad alternative.

Of course, that meant Skyfire spent most of his shifts among unconscious or paralyzed mecha, neither of which were good conversation partners. He missed having casual companionship while he worked and the controlled chaos of his old labs, especially back before… just before.

Although, that didn’t mean he approved of spontaneous interruptions to his shift, even when they did come in the form of a Seeker.

So, when a familiar pair of wings collapsed across his workstation, Skyfire hid his amusement. He poked at Skywarp’s wings, irritating the ailerons in just the right way, until the Seeker shifted to look up at him.

“Skyfire, I’m _booored,_ ” the Seeker complained, staring up at him with the most pathetic look on his face.

Skyfire wasn’t impressed. “And I’m still on duty. Go find Thundercracker.”

“Only for the next two breems! That’s nothing!” he said, plopping his head back down. “And TC’s got some kinda stuffy meeting.” He wrinkled his face at the word, as if just saying it would worsen his boredom.

“Then I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of entertaining yourself until my shift ends.”

Skywarp groaned theatrically. “Ah, c’mon, ‘Fire. It’s just two breems. Nobody would care if you skive off early.”

Skyfire was about to respond, but at that exact moment a ‘Com call came through. Minor scuffle in the rec-room. Three incoming mecha. With a sigh, Skyfire reached down and picked a startled Skywarp up, setting him back on his feet. “Patients on the way. Either leave,” Skywarp squawked a protest, which he ignored, “Or get in the back and stay out of the way.”

Skywarp obediently stepped back, and Skyfire had just enough time to properly arrange his workstation before the mecha were carried in. All three were leaking all over the place, but none had major damage. It would be a quick job.

Grabbing the first mecha, Skyfire popped his medical port and plugged in. Soon enough, the mech was unconscious and he could really get to work. Eventually, when he was halfway through fixing his torn arm, he noticed Skywarp was perched on a nearby berth, staring intently.

“You really do that to everyone? Knock them out?” he asked.

Skyfire nodded absentmindedly, snipping free the last of the now-useless piping. “For the most part, yes. It makes dealing with unruly patients much simpler.”

“Huh.” Skywarp kept staring. Then he asked, “Do you do the other thing too, the…” he made a strange motion around his neck with his hands. Skyfire could guess what he meant.

“Cutting motor relays?” At Skywarp’s nod, he continued. “I’ve done it a couple times when patients get violent.” Five now. He remembered every time. “Like I said-it’s easier to keep them offline from the beginning. For everyone.”

Something unrecognizable passed over Skywarp’s face—an odd mix of confusion and relief and maybe even pride? Skyfire actually stopped working for a moment and turned towards the smaller Seeker, a question on his lips.

Skywarp waved him off before he even uttered a syllable. “That’s good, yeah? I’m glad you found a method that works. Guess I shouldn’t have been worried ‘bout you fitting in here after all!”

Skyfire smiled at what was certainly a complement. For the rest of the shift, though, there was something heavy weighing down his spark, and he wasn’t quite sure why.

-/-

Apparently, Skyfire had enlisted during a respite between battles. There were still small skirmishes and in-fighting, of course, but no large-scale battles. He trained as much as he could, as both a medic and fighter, until he thought he might actually be prepared. He was wrong.

The respite lasted almost two full metacycles, but the order finally came for a full-out attack on a nearby outpost. Skyfire spent as much time as he could with Skywarp and Thundercracker, who were caught between anticipation and well-hidden unease. They were to be at the frontlines of the fighting—a place of honor for any flyer. It was also where the most fatalities took place, and Skyfire couldn't help the sick nervousness at the thought.

The rest of his time was spent in the med-bay. Everyone with decent medical knowledge was kept busy with seemingly unending maintenance checks and weaponry repairs. Skyfire also had to repair several casualties of infighting from the tense atmosphere of the base.

Then the soldiers mobilized, and the base emptied.

Without the fighters, the base echoed with silence. Skyfire busied himself with organizing and familiarizing himself yet again with his medical supplies and berth. He read over procedures and ran through his knowledge of war injuries and schematics.

Time passed. The fighters returned with a bang. The roar of engines and heavy footsteps was deafeningly loud after the silence. He could already hear their exultant voices as the uninjured mecha celebrated in their post-battle euphoria.

After them came the injured and dying. They poured into the med-bay, which fell into an organized chaos as mecha scrambled around and barked orders. Outside the med-bay doors, assistants with small scraps of medical knowledge organized the casualties based on severity. Others placed those still online into stasis lock and carried the mecha inside.

The first mech laid down in front of him was a frontliner missing nearly half of his frame. Skyfire got one look at him… and froze. He'd never seen a dying mech before. The mech was blessedly unconscious, but he was unnaturally still. Skyfire could see inside his frame to the mess of shattered struts and parts. Fluid dripped onto the berth in a continuous stream even as self-repair worked to stem the flow. Images of the schematics he'd memorized came to the front of his processer, and the damage took on names and technical terms. That was easier to deal with.

Skyfire stilled the trembles in his hand and got to work.

The next few cycles passed in an endless stream of the dead and dying. Skyfire's hands were stained with energon and fluid that he didn't have the time to wipe off. He could only tie off broken lines and weld new metal on as quickly as he could. As soon as a patient was stabilized, he was taken away and another took his place.

That orn, Skyfire saw his first mech deactivate. The frontliner's chest was open as Skyfire frantically patched the mech's primary fuel pump. Dim pulses of spark-light were just barely visible from between the tangled, leaking circuitry, and then they just… stopped. The systems under his hands slowly trickled away and were silent. The med-bay was still chaotic around him, but all Skyfire could hear was the unnatural silence in front of him.

He kept staring at the unfamiliar mech, hands still twisted in his internals, until one of the assistants took him away and another, still living mech was placed in front of him. This one's legs were gone. Skyfire had to force his hands to unclench from the tool he'd been holding to pick up the next one. His thoughts felt muddled, almost surreal, so he just focused on repairing the mech on the table, and the next one, and the next. Two more mechs deactivated that cycle.

Eventually, the injuries in front of him grew less and less severe until each mech only a breem to be stabilized. Then the mech he was working on was taken away, and there was no one else placed in front of him. Skyfire stared blankly at the empty, energon stained berth. Around him, the shouts and clanging of the med-bay slowly quieted, and then stopped. He didn't look around. When a hand landed on his shoulder, Skyfire jerked.

It was Cadence. "Shift's over," he said. "All the critically damaged mecha are done. You'll be called back for the rest later." He turned, gesturing towards the back of the room. "There's a basic washrack over there for you to clean up at."

He started to turn away, but glanced back with an odd look on his face. "It gets easier," he said gruffly. Then he was gone.

Skyfire stared after him for a few kliks then at the rest of the slowly-emptying med-bay. When it was almost empty, he heaved himself up, uncurled his fingers from the claws they'd been frozen into, and made his way slowly to the washracks. They were almost too small for him to fit, but he placed his hands under the single faucet.

The dried energon flaked off his armor easily, turning the cleanser a dark, muddled pink. Some of the fluids had gotten into his transformation seams where the cleanser couldn't reach. He tried to scratch it out, but his fingers were too bulky to reach. He left the washracks.

-/-

Somehow, Skyfire made it back to his quarters. He didn’t remember the walk over, nor entering his empty room. His first clear memory was of sitting crumpled against the wall, having not even made it to the berth, while someone pounded on the door.

"Skyfire? Hey, Skyfire, let us in."

Skywarp's voice. He had to be shouting quite loudly to be audible through the door. A ‘com request pinged in his processer, but Skyfire ignored it. The banging on his door continued. He debated letting them inside for a klik. Didn’t.

"We know you're in there."

Thundercracker this time. Skyfire still didn't move. He did feel a little guilty about it though. Thundercracker's voice sounded rather worried.

There was the sound of a light scuffle then Skywarp said, "If you don't unlock it then I'm coming in anyway." A pause. "Ok. Keep away from the door."

There was a pop of displaced air, a short prickle of energy, and then Skywarp and Thundercracker were standing in front of him. Both of them stopped short as they got their first glimpse of him. Skyfire knew how he looked—optics dull with exhaustion, energon still crusted into the seams of his armor. He couldn't meet their optics.

Skywarp opened his mouth to say something, but Thundercracker silenced him with a light rap to his wingtips. Skyfire was grateful. He really didn't want to hear any placating reassurances or advice. Not even from them.

Something moved in the corners of his optics. The two slowly approached. Thundercracker touched his arm. "C'mon. Let's get the rest of your plating clean," he said quietly.

Skywarp gently took hold of his arm and 'ported them to a public washrooms in one familiar, disorienting motion. It was empty. The only sounds were the soft patter of the cleanser and the occasional whir of gears as the two Seekers moved. Neither spoke as they cleaned the last, ingrained smears of fluid from his plating with their smaller fingers.

When they reached his hands, Skyfire was surprised by a sudden shock of pain running up his arm. He hadn't noticed it, but his fingers were dented and torn, the wiring frayed from his shift. Some of the energon caught in the grooves of his plating was his own. He hadn't even noticed the damage. Now that he had, he could feel the throb of broken connections and tiny pricks of pain as each drop of cleanser hit.

They finished scrubbing the dried fluid off of the rest of his plating, carefully avoiding his injuries, then Skywarp brought them back to his quarters. Thundercracker took a standard med-kit out of his sub-space, gestured for him to sit down on the berth, and started the slow process of fixing the damage. His hands were steady as he replaced wires and realigned delicate components.

Their quiet presences were surprisingly comforting. Skyfire could hear the soft cycling of their vents and the low murmur of their systems. Warm plating pressed against his, and the pain slowly disappeared from his hands as Thundercracker worked

It was… better being clean. Not good, but better. After a full breem, Thundercracker finished repairing his hands, and the med-kit disappeared again. Skyfire expected them to start talking to him then, to ask questions and give advice and a dozen other things he wasn't ready to hear.

Instead, they sat with him silently, one Seeker on either side of his frame. Eventually, Thundercracker broke the silence. "There's enough room for us to stay here tonight if you don't want to be alone," he said.

Thundercracker let the offer sit there for a while. They both just stayed next to him, unassuming and quietly present as Skyfire decided, his thoughts sluggish inside his processer. Finally, he nodded.

He could feel the two of them relax slightly against his side, their internals settling in to a deeper, slower rhythm. His own systems cycled down to match them, and he only realized how tense his frame had been after it was gone. Both of them kept sneaking worried glances at him, which he offlined his optics to ignore.

He would talk to them later. In the morning, maybe. But right now, he thought he'd break if he heard anyone tell him how to deal with the realities of war. Remind him that he would have to do this again and again and  _again_  until the war finally ended. He would have to deal with it later, just—not now. Not yet.

That night, he offlined to the comforting, living sounds of two other mecha. It almost drove the memory purges of screams and energon splatters and fitfully flickering sparklight away. Almost.

-/-

The next morning, he had to force himself to take that first step into the med-bay. The other medics were already inside, punctuating the clatter of tools and screech of metal with murmuring voices. The med-bay looked exactly the same as it had every other orn. Nothing at all like last night. The tools and berth had been cleaned while he was off shift, but that didn't make the memories any easier to bear.

A scuff of feet behind him reminded Skyfire that he was blocking the doorway, and he took his first step inside. His legs carried him across the room and over to his workstation. He sat down at his desk, offlined his optics, and tried to relax. It didn’t work. His processer buzzed with memories of the previous orn, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

After a few breems, lighter, quieter footsteps made their way over to where he was sitting and stopped behind him. Skyfire didn't move.

A few kliks later, Cadence spoke. "We'll start getting the minor injuries in a breem or two," he said. His foot scraped softly against the floor as he shifted. "They're all stable by now. Nothing like yesterday."

Skyfire didn't online his optics, but he nodded to let Cadence know he'd heard. The medic obligingly left him alone, and his footsteps made their way back to his workstation. Skyfire waited. When the med-bay doors glided open and the louder noise from the hall leaked inside, he onlined his optics and stood up, turning to see who he would be repairing.

He had work to do.

-/-

Skywarp and Thundercracker had made a habit of barging into the med-bay during the middle of his shift. Occasionally, they would even have a legitimate reason for visiting him there. Skyfire didn't complain, unless he was dealing with another patient or in the middle of an important project. Most of the time, med-bay shifts could get rather monotonous

This time, Skyfire was enjoying a short break when they came in. Skywarp was holding a rather badly dented arm with one hand, though it didn't seem to be bothering him much. He grinned cheerfully at Skyfire and waved with his good arm, already starting to chatter about their training session.

It wasn't until after the two Seekers came inside that Skyfire noticed the third mech hesitating just outside the med-bay. He was another Seeker, though not one Skyfire recognized. The third Seeker lingered uncomfortably outside the door, neither coming inside to be repaired nor leaving the hallway. Just… standing there. Staring.

Skywarp was showing him the worst of the dents, complaining about some incompetent Trine that had flown into them during a maneuver. Skyfire listened to his story as he fixed the damage, nodding and agreeing in all the right places, but he kept glancing back at the open door. The unfamiliar mech still hadn't moved from his perch.

When Skywarp finished reenacting how Thundercracker had verbally torn them apart, Skyfire gestured at the door and asked, "Who's that?"

Skywarp groaned, and his systems gave an unhappy grumble. He glanced towards the doorway. "His designation's Stormrider," Skywarp said sullenly. "We're flying with him."

Skyfire almost dropped the tool he was holding. "You're  _flying_ with him?" he repeated. That was… huge. Seekers  _never_ flew with another mech, particularly another Seeker, unless he was Trine or nearly so. Yet… they weren't acting the way they should've—like they were ashamed instead of happy.

"Only 'cause we have to. Our Commander's a slagger who doesn't understand fragging anything about Seekers," Skywarp grumbled.

From what Skyfire knew, that was an understatement. Trines were practically sacred to Seekers, and for good reason—it was a type of _spark bond_. Having a temporary, unbonded wingmate made a mockery of that. It was hard to believe that anyone who had regular contact with Seekers would have thought forcing wingmates to be a good idea.

"The tactics are all designed for full Trines," Thundercracker continued, answering his unasked question. "He decided it was more _efficient_ to assign us another Seeker than adjust the strategies." It went unspoken that their Commander would have threatened them with insubordination and extensive brig time before they had accepted the replacement.

"What about the rest of his Trine?" There was no way they had deactivated as well. No one could survive the deactivation of both wingmates.

Thundercracker just shrugged. "His real Trinemates are useless in the air. They got pushed to the back, where they can't do any damage."

Skywarp snorted and flicked his wings dismissively. Then he turned away from them and unlatched the outer parts of a cannon on his arm. A cleaning cloth appeared from his sub-space, and he started to wipe the weapon down. His restlessly twitching wings were the only sign he was still listening.

Skyfire turned to Thundercracker instead, letting the other Seeker escape from the conversation. He was still curious about the mech they trained with, even if he wasn't a true wingmate. "So he's a talented flyer then?"

 "He's decent, I suppose. Better than most of them," Thundercracker admitted grudgingly. "But he's slow. He talks too much during missions and complains about orders, and he  _never_ gets the angle right. He's just-"  _not Starscream._ Thundercracker stopped himself and looked away uncomfortably, but Skyfire filled in what he was about to say regardless.

Skywarp looked up from, abandoning his cleaning for a moment. "Don't bother trying to get to know him. He's not going to stay," he said before turning his attention back to his disassembled weapon. He absentmindedly continued speaking. "Stormrider's the third one we've had, and he won't be the last. They didn't bother transferring the last one with us, and the one before that got himself deactivated."

Skyfire looked between the two of them. Unbidden, a slight feeling of hurt welled up in his spark. This… Stormrider hadn’t been the first. From the sound of it, this had been going on for a while. "Why didn't you tell me about them?"

The two Seekers shared a glance. "It just… didn't seem important," Skywarp offered.

And maybe, to them, it really wasn’t. Just another unsavory part of war and nothing more. Skyfire reluctantly accepted the explanation , struggling not to take it personally.

The two Seekers shifted, optics flashing, and focused on something inside their processer. "We have another patrol coming up in a few breems," Thundercracker said. He hesitated, then brushed a hand against his shoulder. "We'll see you after shift."

Skyfire watched them go. The other Seeker—Stormrider—fell into step with them as they walked past. Skywarp and Thundercracker barely spared him a glance. As they walked, Stormrider was slightly out of step, slightly too far away from the other two. It was barely noticeable, but to any Seeker the slight division would be more than enough to know they weren't true Trine.

-/-

  Cadence was watching him

 Which… wasn’t a rare occurrence, per say—Cadence’s favorite hobby was people watching, judging by the amount of time he spent staring at random mecha—but there was something different about it. More focused, as if Cadence was judging something, not just observing. It put Skyfire on edge.

 Finally, as the last patient left, Skyfire turned to him. “Is something wrong?” he asked pointedly. Cadence didn’t even flinch at getting caught. He kept staring, and his gaze darted down towards- his chest?

“You keep rubbing above your spark,” Cadence said. “You’ve been doing it all day.”

Skyfire froze. He hadn’t realized- but his spark was aching. Had been all day, and it was still getting worse. He must have been unconsciously touching his chest all day, futilely trying to sooth the pain. It wouldn’t be long now before it built into a crescendo.

Cadence kept talking. “If you are experiencing spark pain, you should ask either Steelwire or myself to-”

“No.” Skyfire cut him off. He stood, using his full height to his advantage, where he loomed over Cadence. Anger leaked into his expression, though worry mixed sickeningly in his chest. This was his burden, his reminder. He _would not_ allow Cadence to drag it around here, in the sterile lights of the med-bay.

“This is not your concern. It will not affect my work in the medbay,” he said. “Do not bring it up again.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned towards the door. His spark ached fiercely. He ignored it. He could feel Cadence’s optics on him and, just before he opened the door, Skyfire said, “I’m going to be off duty tomorrow. I’ll file the appropriate forms with Steelwire.”

He left.

-/-

 When Skyfire returned to work, he was exhausted. His frame still ached with aftershocks and his spark was sore. He went through the motions of being normal/well, but to a medic’s optics… Cadence kept sneaking glances at him. He hesitated near Skyfire’s workstation, nearly said something, but kept going.

 Skyfire repressed guilt as the other medic walked away. He’d spoken harshly to the other medic. The mech had only been worried…. But he had no business interfering. Not in this, when he couldn’t even speak of it to Starscream’s Trinemates.

An orn later, Skyfire was back to normal. Cadence never brought it up again.

-/-

The war continued.

Dealing with the aftermath of the second major battle was easier. Then there was the third, and the fourth, and eventually Skyfire lost track of them. There were small battles and big ones, times when dozens of mecha poured in and even a few, rare orns when nobody deactivated.

One orn, Skyfire glanced down into the gutted, dying frame of a patient and realized he didn’t fell anything. He couldn’t save that one, and his spark barely twinged when the greying frame was taken and replaced with a new patient.

Later, Skyfire was sick for cycles. But then, it was just business. Routine.

Time passed, but the war didn’t change. Skyfire followed orders, repaired mecha, and trained when he could. He flew when he had the chance, which was rare. Skyfire grew used to his position and responsibilities—to working beside Steelwire and Cadence and spending his free cycles with Seekers.

He'd been a Decepticon for several vorns on the orn his life changed again. When he reached his workspace, it was empty for the first time since his arrival. The minor projects he'd been working on were gone, and the tools sized for his frametype were lined up neatly at the edge of his desk. He looked at the rest of the med-bay. Cadence and Steelwire were watching him blatantly. Neither of them looked happy.

"What's going on?" he asked, aiming his question at Cadence.

Steelwire answered him. "Your Seekers got themselves promoted to a new base, and you're going with them." He snapped the laser scalpel he'd been holding down on the berth and turned away.

"I… what?"

Steelwire spared him a sharp glare. "You're leaving within the next few cycles. I suggest you get ready."

Skyfire looked between them, still trying to make sense of what was happening. He was… being transferred? When had…  _why?_ Reeling, Skyfire reached over and placed them carefully in his subspace. Then he stood there, staring blankly at the now-empty desk.

After a few kliks of stillness, Steelwire snapped at him. " _Go_."

The order snapped him back to awareness. He uncurled his hand from where it was clenched on the surface and forced his legs to move. Skyfire was almost out the door when Cadence called out to him.

"Hey, Skyfire?" he started. Skyfire paused, looking back over his shoulder at the other mech. Cadence wasn't looking at him, but his hands were clenched in front of him.

"Try not to get yourself killed out there."

“You too,” Skyfire murmured. Then, “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

And he left.

The med-bay doors closed behind him with a familiar, final sound, and Skyfire wandered back to his quarters in a daze.

For how long he'd lived in the small room, there was depressingly little that belonged to him. He gathered up the datapads he'd collected and the holocubes of images old images. A few other odds and ends went into his subspace as well, and when he was done the room seemed strangely empty, like the preceeding vorns had never happened.

He tried to contact Skywarp or Thundercracker, but neither of them answered. Feeling more than a bit lost, he sat down on the berth and waited for orders. He didn't have to wait long. His processer pinged with a ‘Com request from Skywarp. He spoke first.

::We're leaving?:: he asked.

A moment of surprised silence filled the connection ::I… yeah. Slag, we _just_ got out of the briefing about it:: Skywarp sounded off-balance, though not nearly as much as Skyfire felt. ::Apparently someone semi-important at a bigger base kicked it, so TC’s been promoted. We have about a megacycle before the transport ship leaves::

::So soon?::

Static crackled over the line, the transmitted equivalent of a sigh. ::Orders. Nothing we can do about it. TC and I are heading to our quarters right now to pick up our stuff. We’ll meet in the main shuttle bay after.::

Skyfire voiced an acknowledgement, and they ended the call. Skyfire looked around his room one last time, but it held nothing else for him. He left before the Seekers even arrived in the adjoining room.

As he walked towards the hanger, he ran through the –rather depressingly few—acquaintances he’d made over the vorns. None had even been close to a friend, and he felt no desire to inform them of the transfer. So he kept moving.

-/-

The new base was larger. Near Iacon, it was closer to the war’s center and had the firepower to prove it. He saw more mecha as they flew in than he had since leaving Iacon. Some were flyers; most grounders of varying sizes. Even the med-bay was significantly larger, with a full dozen marked medics.

Thundercracker was promoted in an official ceremony. Skyfire continued in a new med-bay, with new mecha and hierarchies.

Nothing really changed.

~.*.~


	9. Final Days

Iacon was burning. On the horizon, the night sky glowed in deep, bloody reds and oranges where the city once stood.

After a vorns long siege, the last Autobot had either fled or been deactivated, leaving the city to its conquerors. The ‘Cons gutted the city for what they wanted and burned the rest. Come morning, the Capital of the Autobot Empire would be nothing but a gutted shell.

Skyfire heard Skywarp coming long before he and his Trinemate touched down. A wide grin decorated his face despite the battle grim and damage still covering his plating. The rush of battle brightened both their optics; they must have just left the battlefield.

Skywarp’s face lit up as he rushed towards Skyfire. Declarations of victory bubbled up from his throat, but something on Skyfire’s face stopped him. The grin faded.

“Skyfire?” he asked. “Did something- Are you alright?”

For a long time, Skyfire said nothing. He didn’t look away from the burning ruin that was once his home. Then, finally, he spoke.

“Do you think the flames have reached our old apartment yet?” he asked, voice so quiet he could barely hear it. “What about the lab I shared with your trineleader? Is that gone? Or maybe it’s already been blown to the ground in the revelry.”

He was trembling. The shivers wracked his entire frame, making his plating clatter. From anger or sorrow, he couldn’t even tell. Skyfire wanted… he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Autobots destroyed Vos, and Decepticons raised Praxus in return—now Iacon as well. Dozens of smaller cities were just gone, either abandoned or ruined. Cybertron was crumbling to pieces around them, and nobody seemed to care.

Thundercracker laid a hand on Skyfire’s shoulder. He flinched so violently he nearly fell over at the touch.

“I know it’s hard,” he said. “We’re burning out the good parts of the regime as well as the bad. I wish there was a better way, but this is what we have. The sooner we end this war, the better off we’ll be. Then we can start rebuilding.”

Optimistic words. Skyfire wished he could trust them. “Who are we even fighting anymore? The last Councilmember has just deactivated. So is Sentinel Prime.” The celebrations after _that_ particular battle had been absolutely obscene. “So why are we still killing each other?”

Skywarp just shrugged. “The old leaders might be dead, but the Faction hasn’t changed. It’ll still be the same kinda mecha clawing for power, enforcing the same slagged up policies if we stop now, and all of this would have been for nothing.”

Conviction shone in his optics, stronger than anything Skyfire had felt in a long time. He wondered if they was right. He gestured towards the battlefield they had come from, but it was a weak motion. Lacking… _something._ “Is this really better than what it was before?” he asked.

 “It will be.”              

Skyfire didn’t have an answer to that.

And, in the distance, Iacon burned.

-/-

If Skyfire had thought the loss of Iacon would herald the end of the war, he would have been sorely disappointed. Even without a central base, the Autobots resisted. They remained entrenched in large swaths of land and several scattered outposts. The war didn’t fade. It just… changed. Decepticon forces dispersed from Iacon, chasing the smaller groups of Autobots across Cybertron. Thundercracker was transferred—promoted, really, for his performance during the Siege of Iacon. He was even given a mid-level Command position at Straxus.

As Thundercracker settled into his new responsibilities, he _excelled._

Thundercracker was a good leader. He was quiet. Unassuming. The kind of mech most dismissed as a threat. But once he got the chance to prove himself, people noticed. With Skywarp beside him and both their Sigma abilities, they made a formidable force. Somewhere after their first promotion, they stopped being assigned temporary wingmates, and an old tension finally disappeared.

Then, after a devastating sabotage took out half the base’s Command Staff, Thundercracker quietly stepped in. In the ensuing turmoil, he decisively took down any threats to the base and his new rank and, within a half dozen orns, had cemented his new rank. There he remained for vorns, gathering support and forming a formidable reputation.

Eventually, across Cybertron, the wastelands outside what had once been Praxus became the newest frontlines of the war. Then came news of a decisive defeat, one of few since Iacon’s fall. The Air Commander and the Second Trine had all deactivated.

And Thundercracker was summoned to Kaon.

…

Despite the endless vorns of war, Kaon remained strong. The city skyline spread out before them in bold, blocky shapes. Smog drifted from the endlessly churning factories, filling the air with an acrid stench. Despite the late cycle, thousands of lights lit up the building, casting a dull glow across the sky.

 “Impressive, isn’t it?” Thundercracker said. He stood silhouetted against the skyline, gazing over the city with a fond smile. “Skywarp and I were frequently stationed here before the war. It’s been decavorns since we last saw it.”

“It definitely deserves its reputation as the center of the Decepticon Empire,” Skyfire agreed. He’d been… hesitant about being recalled to Kaon, but he couldn’t deny the impressiveness of the city. It didn’t share the grandeur and opulent wealth that had characterized the Upper Rings of Iacon, but it had its own charm.

 They’d only arrived in the city a handful of cycles before. Of course, the first thing they’d done was fly around, exploring and inspecting their new posting. They’d flown until Skyfire’s wings tingled pleasantly. Then Thundercracker had led them to the roof of a nearby building instead of back to the barracks.

 “I’ve received my newest orders,” Thundercracker said. “I’ve been appointed the next Air Commander. They expect my reply within the orn.”

Skywarp gasped. Then, with a squeal of excitement, he threw himself at his Trinemate. “That’s great! I can’t believe it, you’re gonna be part of _High Command._ Pit, you’re gonna be working directly with Megatron!”

Thundercracker smiled, sharing some of his Trinemate’s enthusiasm. Something about it rang… off to Skyfire. “Do you want to accept it?” he asked.

Thundercracker hesitated. “It would be quite a scandal if I refused.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

A small, true smile lightened Thundercracker’s face. “I’ll admit, I have my reservations about the positon, but… Yes. I think I would prefer to accept.”

Skywarp nudged him, enthusiasm dampened but still grinning wildly. “You’ll do great,” he said.

Thundercracker nodded. “I hope so.” Stepping forward, he folded his legs under him and settled down on the edge of the roof. “I think I’ll stay up here a while longer. You two are welcome to return to your quarters.”

Without a beat, Skywarp sat down next to him, shoulders touching. “Not a chance,” he said. “You’re stuck with us.”

Skyfire settled against Thundercracker’s other side. They stayed there, watching the city gleam, until the sun rose.

 -/-

The induction ceremony was short, as befitting a wartime promotion, but no less grandiose for its brevity. Most of High Command, legends in their own right, was present, as were the lower Commanders. Rows of unranked mecha stood below. All were there to watch and seize up the new player in their power games.

Thundercracker, for his part, met their judgement unflinchingly.

Then Megatron entered.

Megatron strode into the room with all the subtlety of a battering ram. Everything else stopped as Megatron took his place in the center and started to speak. The Warlord had a voice like an avalanche—deep and rumbling, almost hypnotic. When he spoke, everyone listened, enthralled by his presence as much as his words. Decavorns had passed since Skyfire had last seen the Warlord. It had been back when the mech had been more gladiator than revolutionary, and even then he'd had the captivating presence that had drawn so many towards him.

Later, Skyfire wouldn’t remember what Megatron said. It was all a blur of promises and rallying declarations about the war and their new Air Commander. He would, however, remember how Megatron had looked silhouetted on that stage and how, behind him, Thundercracker had glowed with pride and awe.

…

The official ceremony ended, and the unranked mecha trickled out of the room. Skyfire waited on the edge of the slowly emptying room as Thundercracker began to mingle with his new colleagues.

More precisely, he watched as the established mecha felt Thundercracker out, trying to figure out how he was going to affect the current balance of power. Thundercracker was doing much the same to them—he knew that the next orn would decide whether he would meet assistance or sabotage, success or failure, in his new position.

Eventually, when the worst of the fuss died down, the two Seekers drifted over to where he was standing. Both Seekers were radiant from happiness,

“Congratulations,” Skyfire murmured, smiling. He was tempted to touch the other mech, but too many optics were on them for such a sentimental action.

He opened a private, three-way com channel instead. ::How is your introduction to the other Commanders going? Any problems?::

Thundercracker's wings shifted minutely, the movement small enough that no ground-frame would have noticed. ::About as well as could be expected. It's a good thing so few of them are airframes, or I'd be worried about them trying to steal my position. ::

Skywarp snorted. ::Give me a couple orns and I'll figure out which ones you can trust and who'll turn around and stab you in the back first chance they get. ::

Skyfire chuckled at the reminder of one of Skywarp's more unusual talents—information gathering. Skywarp had a way of disarming people. He knew how to dig up old gossip and hidden info, to get information from others without them even realization what he was doing, and piece it together into something useful.

Not that they could trust any mecha to always keep their word—that was just being ridiculous—but Skywarp could pick through the tangled web of grudges, alliances, and motivations that made up Decepticon relationships. It was always a gamble. Skywarp was just one of the best at playing the odds.

Skyfire was about to tease Skywarp about his overconfidence when the Seeker stilled, and his optics locking on something behind the other two.

::Oh, slag,  _look who's coming!_ :: Skywarp transmitted to them both, the words running together in his excitement.

Skyfire looked up, and his processer hitched at the sight of Megatron striding towards them. Thundercracker stepped forward to meet him. He inclined his head towards the larger mech—not quite a bow but close to it. Skywarp and Skyfire echoed it, though slightly deeper due to their lower rank

"Thundercracker," Megatron said. His voice seemed to reverberate through the entire room when he spoke, making heads turn from halfway around the room.

"Lord Megatron," Thundercracker responded.

The Warlord’s optics flickered briefly, analytically, over the Seeker's frame. "You have a good record behind you. Don't disappoint me."

Thundercracker straightened, wings flared out proudly. "I won't, sir."

Megatron seemed satisfied with that answer. Giving them an approving nod, he walked away. A weight seemed to lift from Skyfire's shoulders as he left, and the tension keeping the two Seekers' wings rigid eased.

"Slag…" Skywarp whispered. He sounded stunned and more than a little awestruck. " _Megatron_ just spoke to us." He laughed almost giddily in delight.

Skyfire couldn't hold back a smile at that. Looked like Skywarp hadn't gotten over his old idolization. "You know," he said, "as a member of the new Command Trine, you're going to be seeing a lot more of him now."

Skywarp's optics widened, and his wings practically vibrated with excitement at  _that_ realization. A subtle glare from Thundercracker, likely accompanied by a prod over their trine bond, got him to conceal his enthusiasm better.

"We're still in public," Thundercracker reminded him, though not too strictly. He was rewarded with a rather sheepish grin from his trinemate.

Soon enough, another handful of Seekers descended on them from elsewhere, looking to greet the new Air Commander. Skyfire willingly stepped back. The room was almost entirely ranked mecha by them, and Skyfire slipped out of the room, leaving the Higher Us to their machinations. He should introduce himself to the Head medic—Hook, was it?—and hopefully forestall any rumors of favoritism. In such a large med-bay, he could just fade into the background.

-/-

Skyfire was enjoying a cube in the corner of the mess hall when the smallest mecha he’d ever seen clambered onto their table. There were two of them, shorter than Skyfire’s knee and identical in everything except color. Skywarp laughed in delight when he saw them.

“Rumble! Frenzy!” he greeted with honest enthusiasm. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Good to see you’re still around to annoy the slag out of everyone.”

The tiny mecha laughed. One—the red one—sacked Skywarp in the arm which, even while standing on the table, was the highest he could reach. “Ah, shut up flyboy!” he said, though there was no real irritation in his tone. “What’s with the crew? I remember this one,” he said, pointing at Thundercracker, “but you didn’t have this lug with you back then.”

Both minicons stared up at him. Despite their size, their gazes were surprisingly intense.

“That’s Skyfire. He joined up a couple vorns after we got transferred out,” Skywarp explained.

“He’s _ours,_ ” Thundercracker cut in. “Leave him out of your scheming.”

The other Seeker didn’t look half as pleased as Skywarp about the new arrivals. He didn’t seem unwelcoming or even particularly displeased, just… somewhat cautious.

The minicons didn’t even flinch at the threat. “I’m hurt!” Red said. “What kinda mecha do you take us for? We got _class!_ ”

Mischief glinted in their optics and, for a moment, Skyfire swore he saw Skywarp reflected in their faces. He was starting to understand why they and the Seeker might get along. And why Thundercracker was so wary.

“You heard the news yet?” Blue asked. At their confused faces, his smirk widened. “Ah, you guys are gonna freak! The ‘bots picked a new Prime!”

“Really?” Skywarp blurted out, looking as surprised as Skyfire felt. “Pit, Rumble, I thought we were done with that slag. They still trying to pull the same tricks?”

“Yep,” Blue—apparently Rumble—said with the heartfelt glee of someone delivering bad news. “They’re already pulling out the same ‘chosen by the Matrix’ and ‘vessel for Primus’ spiel they tried with Sentinel. Even started offering peace talks again, like we don’t remember how _that_ turned out in the beginning of the war.”

He received nods of agreement from around the table. “Hopefully this one gets taken out quicker than the last,” Thundercracker murmured.

Skyfire winced, but he couldn’t disagree. Sentinel Prime had been little more than a puppet for the Council, and he’d caused more damage to Cybertron than any other mech, from his blatant hatred of warframes to his absolute refusal to negotiate with the Decepticons.

“What’s the new Prime’s designation?” Skyfire asked.

Rumble shrugged. “Slag if I know. Optronix or something? Optimal?”

Eventually, Skyfire would find out that it was actually Optimus—an oddly cheerful name—not that it mattered. He was the Prime, just the latest figurehead in a long line of them. This one wasn’t going to be any different.

-/-

The twins—and that’s what they were, Cassetticon twins—had apparently been close friends with Skywarp early in the war. They’d immediately rekindled that old friendship, which Skyfire was torn about. On one hand, Skywarp was certainly happy in their company. On the other, well…

“I don’t want to know,” Skyfire said, burying his face in his hand as soon as he stepped into their quarters. “Don’t tell me what you’re plotting or who you’re planning it for. I never even saw you three here.”

Three guilty voices mumbled an agreement, and Skyfire, optics still covered, walked into the next room. He could still picture the diagrams and supplies covering the floor and the shit-eating grins on their faces. They were plotting something big. He wanted no part of the inevitable fallout.

Thundercracker was reading a datapad there, a pained look on his face. He glanced up at the sound of the door. “They still at it?” he asked.

Skyfire nodded “They’ve taken over the entire room.”

Thundercracker groaned. “They always did this last time. They got bored and then got into trouble. I’d hoped that they’d gained some maturity with their rank, but…”

“That wouldn’t be Skywarp,” Skyfire finished for him, unaccountably fond. Also, “Rank? Are Rumble and Frenzy Officers too?”

They didn’t have the characteristics etchings on their frames and certainly didn’t act like Officers, but they wouldn’t be the first eccentric mech to earn rank.

Thundercracker snorted an inelegant laugh. “They’re not, thank Primus. Their Host is head of Communications though, and probably the most trusted of Megatron’s Inner Circle. Definitely dangerous, and he’s very protective of his Cassettes.”

“Huh,” Skyfire murmured with a curious glance back towards the now-closed door. “I didn’t know those hellions were such big players.” Then, with a soft chuff of humor at the thought, he turned back to Thundercracker.

“What are you working on now?” he asked, eyeing the datapad in Thundercracker’s hand. As Air Commander, Thundercracker was rarely without work. At least it was only one datapad this time—Skyfire had seen him surrounded by upwards of a half dozen of them before.

“Just some new strategies,” he said. “Casualties were unexpectedly high last time. We lost one of the Ranked Trines too. I’m hoping to fix that before the next big battle.”

Skyfire’s spark fell. He’d noticed the unusual amount of Airframes in the med-bay last battle, though he hadn’t thought much of it. Skywarp had been damaged too—only minor, but enough to worry him. Hook, of course, had treated him, as he did all of High Command. Despite Hook’s skill, Skyfire found himself longing for the vorns when he had treated them instead. Or, even before then, when they hadn’t needed to worry about the war and battle-damage at all.

Skyfire didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a seat beside Thundercracker and watched him work to protect his framekin.

-/-

“You’re  _that_ Shuttle, aren’t you? The Air Commander’s pet.”

Skyfire was too professional to flinch with his fingers under a mech’s plating, but his spark lurched in response. The unconscious Seeker’s Trinemate lurked behind him, waiting for a reaction. Skyfire was determined not to give it to him.

_This is why I prefer them unconscious_ , he thought. Then, aloud, said, “I am nobody’s pet.”

Amusement danced across the stranger’s face. Marks of rank reflected off the light as he moved, but he was only a lower Commander. High enough to make life difficult if he chose but not enough to be truly dangerous. An annoyance. Nothing more.

“But you are him, right?” the mech continued. “The shuttle that trails behind our _illustrious_ Air Commander everywhere? I heard you’ve never even seen a battlefield. That true?”

He had this stupid, smug smirk on his face. Skyfire grit his teeth and ignored him. Just a little longer, and this— _whatever_ it was would be done. He tied off the last connections perhaps quicker than advisable and pulled his hand free.

“The repairs are finished,” he said. “I think you should leave now.”

He’d dealt with his kind before: arrogant, ambitious mecha that saw ‘Shuttle’ and ‘noncombatant’ and thought him the Air Commander’s weakness. They were never brave enough to start anything unprovoked, and they always lost interest eventually. Thundercracker’s reputation kept him from any overt attacks, and he could ignore the rest.

The Seeker dallied as he lifted his Trinemate from the berth, trying a few more jabs, but he finally turned away with a huff. Skyfire thought he was done and was just starting to relax. The Seeker couldn’t resist one last parting shot.

“Don’t know what kind of self-respecting Seeker would sparkshare with a slagging _Shuttle._ He musta been glitched. No wonder he deactivated.”

Skyfire saw red.

-/-

The next several breems were a haze of partially corrupted memory files. Skyfire remembered standing. Being angrier than he’d ever been before, so furious he could hardly  _think._ There was the satisfying sight of his fist colliding with that smug face. Then chaos and pain and ugly, ugly satisfaction until hands were prying them apart.

Clarity stole back across his mind as soon as the Seeker was out of sight, leaving Skyfire cold and vaguely nauseous.

He’d been tossed in one of the private rooms to ‘cool down.’ Skyfire sank onto the lone berth, staring blankly at the wall. His right wing ached fiercely, as did his side, and parts of his wrist were out of alignment.

Then Skywarp was there.

Skyfire only noticed him when the Seeker gently lifted his damaged arm and started popping out the dents.

“Never thought I’d ever be the one fixing _you,_ ” he said conversationally as he finished with the dents and moved on to a pair of thick scratches Skyfire hadn’t even noticed. “So what’d the guy do?”

Anger resurfaced at the reminder, though it was a pale echo of what it had been. It too faded. With a tight vocalizer, Skyfire answered. “He insulted Starscream.”

Skywarp’s grip spasmed against Skyfire’s arm, hard enough to reignite the pain in the still sensitive plating. “That so,” he rumbled, loosening his fingers with a jerk. “He tried to intimidate Thundercracker too. Stupid mech. Good flyer, but not irreplaceable. Thinks he’s a lot more important than he really is.”

He met Skyfire’s optics with a dark grin. “He’s ‘bout to find himself on the first transport outta here. The wastelands outside Praxus sounds like a good place for him to rot, doesn’t it?”

A smile ghosted across Skyfire’s face, but there was no mirth behind it. It faded quickly enough. I’ve never lost control like that before,“ he admitted.

He could still feel the phantom echo of violence against his hands. The dark satisfaction that had soured so quickly.

This wasn’t him.

He didn’t _do_ this kind of thing. He’d never intentionally hurt another creature before. Restrained, yes. Defended himself, when necessary. But not… gone after someone with the sole intent to _hurt._

“I don’t get it,” Skywarp said. “You barely even dented the guy, and he got you back just as bad. What’s the big deal?”

_That’s not the mech I want to become,_ Skyfire didn’t say. _The kind that sees violence as a solution. Who gets so infuriated by mere_ words _that he loses control over himself._

“I don’t know,” he said instead. “But it won’t happen again.”

_Never,_ he swore to himself. He wouldn’t intentionally hurt someone again or lose control over himself so violently. No matter what.

That- that was his limit.

No matter how much longer the war stretched on or what else happened, he wouldn’t break that again. He could- he _would_ hold onto that much.

-/-

Skyfire was rather out of sorts the next few orns. He felt… strange. Uncomfortable, almost, though nothing had really changed. Both Seekers noticed his odd mood. They seemed caught between leaving him alone to compose himself and trying to distract him. It was a strange dance. None of them liked it.

Skyfire had retreated to the rooftop in a melancholic mood, energon cube in hand. He watched the sky fade into black—or as close as it got so close to the city. When his ‘com system pinged him, he reluctantly accepted the call.

:Skyfire?: Thundercracker asked. :If you’re free, come to the front of the base. You don’t want to miss this.:

He ended the ‘com call before Skyfire could ask what it was. Curiosity piqued, Skyfire drained the rest of his cube and stood. Activating his thrusters, he floated slowly towards the front of the complex. Before he was halfway there, he could hear the shouting. One voice in particular rose above the others, and Skyfire recognized the owner immediately: Skywarp. He was roaring something at the top of his lungs, though Skyfire detected a note of playfulness beneath the anger.

As Skyfire rounded the lip of the last building, he immediately understood why.

Skywarp was… orange. A rather lurid shade too.

He was chasing the Twins, threatening their health and paintjob, and had attracted quite a crowd. Skyfire settled on the edge of the building, staring down at the spectacle with a smile tugging on his lips.

After a moment, Thundercracker’s optics found his, and the Seeker floated up to meet him.

“Looks like the Twins are restarting an old tradition,” he said. “They would get into wicked prank wars that lasted decacycles. They should be keeping to the old rules though—no unrelated bystanders, no maiming, and no interfering with duties.”

“I assume there’s a reason for those rules?”

Thundercracker laughed. “You should get Skywarp to tell you the stories sometime. You would enjoy them.”

Below them, Skywarp finally caught Rumble, dangling him upside down from one leg. Frenzy quickly retaliated by climbing up Skywarp’s back to reach the more delicate plating, but Skywarp took to the air before he could do anything. Then he had two screaming minicons attached to his frame as he performed some rather impressive acrobatics.

Honest amusement bubbled through Skyfire’s spark. He laughed. The sound was quiet but genuine, and Thundercracker stared at him in startled pleasure. He grinned back at him, and they watched the three pranksters taunt each other.

His spark twinged, and Skyfire soothed the plating absentmindedly. It was still light. Ignorable and sporadic. It would still be quite a while before the pressure built again.

Glancing to the side, Skyfire noticed Thundercracker staring at him, a slight frown etched on his face. Skyfire’s hand dropped. He tried not to look guilty and, after several kliks, Thundercracker turned away, choosing not to break the delicate peace.

-/-

 “It’s been quiet lately,” Skyfire said, staring up at the night sky with two warm weights beside him. “How long’s it been since the last real battle? Three decaorns? Four?”

They’d flown into the crooked heights of the nearby mountains, the Iron Towers, to escape the growing claustrophobia of the base. With Thundercracker’s responsibilities, they didn’t get a chance to really stretch their wings as often as they’d like.

Skywarp looked up from where he’d been drawing patterns into the metal shavings liberally coating the plateau they’d landed on. “There was that skirmish a couple orns ago, with the patrol and the ambush. That wasn’t enough excitement for you?”

Skyfire waved him off with one lazy hand. “No, no, that was more… bad luck than anything. I’m talking about the big battles—the ones with strategies and organization and real resources at stake. I doubt we’ve even updated the territory map recently.”

He certainly wasn’t _complaining_ —his shifts in the med-bay were wonderfully dull right now—but it was strange. Something had definitely changed, and he wanted to know what.

Thundercracker gave a thoughtful hum on his other side. “You’re right. Things have been slow ever since the new Prime took power, and now any attacks from them have slowed to a trickle.”

“So what?” Skywarp asked. “The fightin’s always gone in cycles. You get decaorns where the tacticians have these big strategies, and then there’s the times when nothing happens. Ya just gotta enjoy the relaxing times while they last.”

Skywarp was right, of course, but something about the explanation didn’t sit right with him. No matter what was happening, though, there wasn’t anything he could do to affect it. Air currents teased his wings, and Skyfire idly considered taking off into the sky again. Then Thundercracker shifted, and he started to speak.

“There’s been rumors,” he said slowly. “About the Autobots.  People are saying they’re planning something big, and the Inner Circle have been acting like they’re waiting for something.”

Skywarp shorted. “Like what? Another attack? What else can they even do anymore? There’s no more civvies, and all the cities left are military strongholds too.”

It was, unfortunately, true. With the current state of Cybertron, it was physically impossible to do anything a fraction as devastating as the early days of the War. There just weren’t enough mecha or infrastructure left. Skyfire had stopped checking casualty counts vorns ago, too disturbed by their numbers, but he could guess just how bad it had gotten.

“Not big like that,” Thundercracker corrected. “It’s just… The ‘bots don’t have the same supply lines as we do. The energon shortages have been hitting them harder, and rumor has it they’re thinking of looking elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” Skyfire asked. “As in, outside Cybertron?” He knew of the energon shortages, of course. They’d started long before the war and had never entirely disappeared, instead fluctuating wildly depending on location. Few energon mines and conversion centers were still functioning, though they had seemed sufficient for their current population. He wondered how much worse off the Autobots were.

Thundercracker nodded. “As I said, it’s still only a rumor. More than likely, it won’t come to anything.”

“But if it does,” Skywarp finished for him. “We should be prepared. Megatron would flip if he thought the Autobots could gain the advantage again.”

Then, loosening the plating of his wings in a luxurious stretch, he stood. Skyfire followed suit, and they soon took off into the sky once more, taking a meandering path back to Kaon.

-/-

The silence from the Autobots stretched on, long enough for tension to build in the base. Fights broke out constantly, keeping the med-bay busy. The entirety of High Command soon spent entire orns sequestered away in meetings. Commanders from nearby outposts paid them a suspicious number of visits, and supplies were soon stockpiled at an alarming rate. Everyone had a theory about what was going on; few knew any real facts.

Skyfire watched, and he waited.

The ‘com call came in the middle of his shift.

::Throne room. Now,:: Thundercracker ordered, then he cut the channel. Skyfire stood there for several long moments, listening to the broken channel, before he convinced his legs to move. Unease churned in his spark. Thundercracker had sounded worried. Scared, almost. Skyfire worried about what could cause that tone in the nigh-unflappable Seeker. And near the Throne room too. Good things rarely happened in that section of the base.

Though he rushed, the walk between the Throne room and the med-bay had never seemed so long. Both Seekers waited for him in the hall when the large doors finally came into view.

"Don't say  _anything,_ " Skywarp hissed when he reached them. He sounded… worried. Almost frightened.

Skyfire nodded, and fear clawed its way deeper into his spark. Then Thundercracker activated the door, and they entered.

Megatron was alone. The sound of the door hissing closed behind them was loud in the silent room. Skyfire forced himself to seem calm as the Gunformer's attention focused exclusively on them; he didn’t succeed. Thundercracker took the lead, and Skyfire and Skywarp fell into step behind them as they approached the center of the room.

Megatron's optics roamed over them for a klik before focusing on Thundercracker. Even perched on his throne, Megatron was shorter than Skyfire, but the Shuttle felt small under that indifferent gaze. Their leader's armor gleamed under the bright lighting, and his Fusion Cannon was a large, undeniable presence on his arm.

"We are leaving Cybertron," he began unceremoniously. "The Autobots are planning to abandon the planet, and they will not escape us. I will be leading an elite force on the Nemesis. As my Air Commander, you and your trinemate will be on the ship."

Skyfire was barely able to stop himself from making a rather embarrassing sound. Megatron himself was leaving the planet? This wasn’t the small expedition he’d half-expected. From the sound of it, both Factions’ High Commands would be leaving the planet. He couldn't imagine what this would mean for the war.

Thundercracker shifted beside him, moving almost imperceptibly closer to the other two. "And Skyfire is not coming with us."

For the first time, Megatron looked past the two Seekers to him. Skyfire met his optics for less than a klik, and he found only disdain there. "No," he said.

It was an order, a declaration of a decision already made. If Skyfire had been the recipient of that implacable denial, he would have backed down. Immediately. This was Megatron, the Slagmaker, leader of the Decepticons, and a thousand other titles. You didn't cross him unless you were prepared for a quick deactivation. Thundercracker was braver—and more foolhardy—than he was. He kept speaking.

"You are aware of the modified contract we have regarding Skyfire," Thundercracker said. It wasn't a question. "He was our Trineleader's bondmate before his deactivation. As Seekers, we're honor bound to protect him as our kin."

To any Seeker, that statement would have been more than enough. Even most Grounders understood the implacable bonds connecting the frametype and their kin

Not Megatron.

Trines and loyalty bonds were weaknesses. Sparkmates were foolish indulgences. Invoking sentimentality was the wrong way to change his mind.

Megatron's expression darkened in displeasure. "I'm modifying the contract,” he said. “You will be coming with me on the Nemesis, and you're…  _ally_ will remain unharmed here until our return."

Thundercracker's wings flickered nervously before settling in a firm, steady position. "Then I'm afraid I must refuse"

The entire room seemed to freeze. Nobody refused Megatron like that—not if they wanted to stay intact.

"And if I order you to come without him?" Megatron's voice had deepened almost into a growl, and the threat in it was unmistakable.

Thundercracker hesitated. They'd all seen the way Megatron wielded his fists or even his fusion cannon to punish mecha that went against him. Now was the time to give in—the last chance they'd likely have before Megatron completely lost his patience.

Thundercracker's hesitant, uneasy voice cut through the terse silence. "He could be useful," he said quietly.

"Thundercracker…" Megatron growled. He shifted forward in his throne, ostensibly flashing the fusion cannon on his arm with the movement.

Thundercracker bowed deeply. Then he said, "Please, my Lord, allow me to speak." His voice was stronger. Less uncertain.

Megatron didn't say anything and his expression didn't soften, but he settled minutely back into his throne. He always had enjoyed shows of subservience, but his patience was still at the breaking point. Skyfire prayed that Thundercracker knew what he was doing, else the Seeker would likely end up in the med-bay until the Nemesis's departure.

Thundercracker took Megatron's silence as the fragile permission it was. "Skyfire is more than just a medic," he continued carefully. "He's skilled with long ranged weapons, and his size makes him useful as a guard or transport. More than that, he's an Academy-trained scientist with a specialty in interplanetary travel. He has extensive experience with navigating uncharted space and interpreting star charts. We don't know where our pursuit of the Autobots will take us, and his experience could prove invaluable."

Megatron looked slightly intrigued, or at least more willing to listen and less likely to slag them and be done with it. "I already have Astrotrain," he countered.

Thundercracker scoffed, though the sound sounded forced. "Astrotrain was trained as basic transport through well-traveled routes. He may have experience with interplanetary navigation, but he doesn't have nearly Skyfire's experience surviving uncharted space or converting energon from unpalatable sources."

The last statement made Megatron's optics brighten, and he turned to look directly at the Shuttle. "Is this true?"

Skyfire nearly froze from having Megatron’s direct attention. He forced his spark to calm. He couldn't show any weakness, especially now. "Yes. My partner and I were familiar with many types of energon converters. For vorns, our sole assignment was searching uncharted galaxies for new energon supplies, and we provided for ourselves using local sources."

To his audios the slight quaver in his tone was all too obvious. Megatron had to have noticed it. Skyfire prayed that the Gunformer would take it as a sign of submission, not weakness.

"I will consider it."

He waved them away in a clear dismissal, and the three of them immediately bowed and left. The Throne room door hissed closed behind them.

" _Slag,_ " Skywarp breathed as soon as they were out of audio range. "Oh, slag, I thought he was gonna  _deactivate_ us."

Skyfire silently agreed. They'd gotten lucky. He looked over at the blue Seeker walking silently beside them. "That was dangerous, Thundercracker," he said.

The Seeker let out a shuddering vent. "I know."

His voice wasn't as even as it had been earlier. Skyfire put a hand on his shoulder and wasn't surprised to find it trembling. Slag, anyone would be in danger of falling apart after confronting Megatron himself like that—Skyfire was impressed that he'd managed to stay calm at all in the face of Megatron's ire. The hallway, however, was not the place to show any weakness.

"Skywarp?"

The purple Seeker was already leaning over to stabilize his trinemate. "Got it," he said.

He reached out to Skyfire with his other hand, and then the three disappeared in the familiar blur of purple. When Skyfire onlined his optics again, they were in their shared quarters. Thundercracker slumped against a wall for support, shuddering against the metal as he sank down to the ground. Skyfire settled on one side of him, Skywarp on the other. Slowly, the trembles abated. His armor, though, remained pressed tightly, protectively, against his frame.

Skyfire stroked along one wing carefully, keeping the contact light and comforting. "You handled that well," he offered quietly. "Far better than anyone could have expected."

Thundercracker's wings pressed into the contact. "And if it still didn't work?" he asked quietly. "If Megatron still decides you're not worth bringing? We can't-" He shuddered again harshly. "Air Commander or not, he'll deactivate us all if we try to go against him again."

Skyfire didn’t stop rubbing his wing. There was a good chance that Megatron wouldn't change his mind. A very good chance. Megatron wasn't easily swayed. He was too prideful, to unwilling to compromise. If he decided Thundercracker was trying to undermine his authority, that was it.

Thundercracker and Skywarp would leave, and Skyfire would stay on Cybertron. Alone. His processer shied away from the thought, terrified, but he didn’t let it show.

Instead, he said, "Then you'll go with him on the Nemesis and have to trust that I can keep myself online on Cybertron until your return." It was the only thing they could do.

Dwelling on what could be fixed nothing. So he didn’t. If he stayed a bit closer to the Seekers than usual, nobody mentioned it

~.*.~

 


	10. Exodus

Time was ticking away from them.

Already an orn had passed without news of Megatron’s decision, and he didn’t know how many of those they had left. Nobody knew when the Autobots would make their move. If they left before Megatron changed his mind… That was it. He’d be stuck on Cybertron until they returned. Alone.

Skyfire tried to continue his shifts normally, but his spark was constantly tangled up with worry. He made mistakes—stupid ones, even—and was lucky Hook didn’t catch wind of them. Skyfire couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was alone in the Seeker’s quarters when the door slammed open and a whirlwind of purple sped towards him. With the ease of experience, Skyfire caught him without losing his balance. Skywarp, clinging to his armor with his arms wrapped around Skyfire’s neck, grinned up at him. He was practically vibrating with excitement

He babbled something as he wriggled in Skyfire’s arms, so quick and high pitched he couldn’t understand a word,

“Slow down!” Skyfire chided, though a grin was spreading across his face. Skywarp’s cheer was infectious, brightening even Skyfire’s previous foul mood. He shifted his grip, hefting Skywarp higher so he could hook his hand under the Seeker’s hips, stabilizing him.

“Megatron changed his mind,” Skywarp said in an almost normal voice, though he couldn’t completely repress his glee. “They sent out an official roster today. You’re on it!”

Skyfire nearly dropped him. As it was, Skywarp only slipped down a hands width before Skyfire recovered from his surprise. “I’m coming on the Nemesis?” he whispered, as if speaking too loud would be enough to shatter the moment and undo the words.

Skywarp nodded wildly. “You’re coming,” he confirmed.

At that moment, Thundercracker came busting through the door, optics bright and wings high in excitement. His optics found Skywarp’s immediately, and Skyfire’s soon after.

“I heard--” he stuttered. “You’re--” he trailed off, too overwhelmed to even finish the sentence, and stepped closer. Skyfire met him halfway, pulling his frame close. Eventually, he let Skywarp slip back to the ground, and they stood together.

Even as the cycles passed and their initial, almost maniacal enthusiasm faded, Skyfire couldn’t stop grinning. He was leaving with the Nemesis—was staying with his Seekers.

What more could he want?

-/-

Over the next few orns, Skyfire felt lighter, almost relaxed for the first time in far too long. His work improved, though he remained somewhat distracted. He would be leaving the base soon—leaving Cybertron altogether, to chase the Autobots into the starts. He hadn’t been off-planet in megavorns, not since long before enlisting.

Being on the roster didn’t mean he received any more information about the plan. He was kept on edge, unsure where or when or how the ship would be called to assemble. Thundercracker just told him to be patient, that he’d make sure everything was taken care of. Skyfire trusted him to keep his word, but the promise didn’t settle his spark.

Finally, half a megacycle into one of his shifts, alarm bells rang, and the air around him came alive with transmissions. The med-bay burst into action, making their own preparations for battle, and Skyfire moved with them.

Then, at the front of the room, Medical Commander Hook closed up his tools and, with a curt order for all of them to continue working, left. Everyone paused to watch the med-bay doors close behind him, and the transmissions scattering across the room gained a new depth as every single mecha began speculating about what could possibly cause Hook to abandon his med-bay.

Skyfire kept staring at the closed doors that had cut Commander Hook off from sight. He could only think of one thing that would draw that mech away from the med-bay. He hesitated, caught between following Commander Hook out and waiting for Thundercracker’s confirmation. He didn’t have to wait long.

A personal transmission pinged in his processer, and Thundercracker’s voice filled his head.

:: Skyfire, get to the loading bay  _now!_ The Autobots are making their move.::

Skyfire ran.

-/-

The loading bay was a mess of activity when Skyfire arrived. In the middle of it all stood the Nemesis. For the first time, Skyfire looked upon the marvel of engineering that was the newest Decepticon warship. Heavily modified for war, the ship's armor was unimaginably thick, reinforced with the best weapons the Faction had to offer. Its lines were sleek and smooth, speaking of both speed and strength. Technicians crawled around the ship as they readied it for takeoff.

Thundercracker and Skywarp stood in the center of the loading bay, alternating between barking orders at the mecha swarming around the ship and transmitting to the rest of the Army. Skywarp caught sight of him when he was halfway to them and waved him over with a strained smile. As he grew closer, Skyfire found Thundercracker’s optics and, though the blue Seeker didn't have the time to acknowledge him, his stress-tight plating loosened slightly at his approach.

All at once, a wave of tension seemed to swell over the entire room, leaving mecha cursing and scrambling around. Thundercracker twisted toward the ship, swearing vividly. Skywarp snagged Skyfire's arm as he moved past, dragging him along beside them.

"The Ark just launched," he explained under his breath.

Skyfire nodded and sped up. "How long until we follow?"

Skywarp shrugged. "A breem. Less if we can."

He looked up at the rapidly filling ship. A breem was barely any time at all. Thankfully, it seemed like most of the supplies had already been loaded in preparation. As they passed through the wide loading hatch, Thundercracker was carried off to the Command Deck with the other Officers, and Skywarp and Skyfire drifted along towards the back of the ship. A crowd had gathered along the small rec room and surrounding hallways. Nobody knew what they were meant to do next, so they just packed tighter together and waited for orders.

The ships engines rumbled to life with a loud, low note that vibrated the floor beneath them. The surrounding mecha hunkered down as much as they could in the limited space, tucking their plating close to their frame and bracing themselves on whatever they could reach. As more power was routed to the engines, Skyfire found out why. The Nemesis wasn't equipped with interstellar-quality shock absorption, and the inertia from the initial blast of energy almost sent them all tumbling to the floor. Skyfire staggered, and he felt Skywarp stumble against his side.

The ship gave one last, intense quake underneath them as they left the pull of Cybertron's gravitational field. It felt strange to be weathering the sensation inside of a ship instead of from his alt mode. Artificial gravity kicked in with a jerk—a first for the shuttle. He'd never bothered with it when it was just him and Starscream.

His spark gave a short, almost painful jerk in his chest as Cybertron disappeared behind them. He tensed, hand twitching towards his chest, but the twinge didn’t return.

Skywarp shifting anxiously beside him, so he transmitted the Seeker a memory of flying above Cybertron’s thin atmosphere. The old file kept them occupied through the ship’s jerking journey as they pursued the Autobot Flagship.

-/-

Ultimately, the Nemesis was a spaceship. Even the Decepticon Flagship wasn’t immune to the realities of interstellar travel, and space was at a premium. The close confines and lack of personal space was difficult for everyone, but it hit the Seekers especially hard.

Skywarp and Thundercracker struggled, despite how they hid it in public. They were stuck inside narrow corridors and cramped quarters. Neither of them had been fortified for interstellar flights the way Starscream had been, and only Skyfire had the naturally thick plating that could endure the extreme climate of space. Which left them in control of a fair sized flock of Seekers with nowhere to fly and nobody to fight. So they took their excess energy and growing claustrophobia and, as a group, seemingly decided to camp out in what passed for a rec-room, sharing their misery with the rest of the ship.

Skyfire found himself joining them more often than not. Though he only felt a fraction of the Sky Hunger of Seekers, he was used to more space and an open sky. His closet of a room grated on him after a cycle, and at least the rec-room was a distraction. It wasn’t just the Seekers either. As Skyfire quickly learned, the Seekers weren’t the only interesting mecha that had made it onto the Expedition

“Yo, Wingnuts!” a familiar voice called as they were taking their energon. “The slag are you three doing here? This ship’s supposed to be for Elites only, ya know.”

A grin broke across Skyfire’s face as he turned. Beside him, Skywarp and Thundercracker did the same. From their spot on the floor, the Cassetticons grinned up at them, visibly happy to see them despite their teasing words.

Skywarp snorted beside him and shot back with, “Aw yeah? Command Trine not good enough for you scraplets? You little cheaters are just clinging to your Host’s reputation. Wanna bet on how long you’ll actually last against the big boys now?”

“Big boys, huh? Izzat what they’re calling it now?” Frenzy countered. “I was lookin’ at the roster, ya know, and I noted something interested. Ya’ll got named a Second Trine for the trip. Goes by the name of Coneheads. Ya heard of them?”

Skywarp groaned, dropping the teasing act for a moment. “Don’t _remind_ me,” he grumbled. “I wish I knew what moron made _that_ decision so I could boot them out the airlock. ”

“Aw, ya mean you don’t _like_ them? They’re gonna be so disappointed ta hear that. You know how they _admire_ you.”

“Shut up, slagheads,” Skywarp muttered, but he scooted to the side, leaving the Twins enough room to clamber up on the bench beside them. They stayed there for cycles, longer than Skyfire usually spent in the overcrowded room. After that, they often found themselves running into the Twins. It was something to do on the Ship, at least.

-/-

It was a bad day.

Skyfire’s spark had been sensitive ever since leaving Cybertron, and it was only growing worse. What had started out as faint twinges and soreness, easily dismissed, had grown into true pain. It radiated out from his chest, sending knifes of ice pulsing through his frame.

He hid it well, as he’d learned to, but he worried. The glitches were generally more regular than this. Predictable. The pain started, crested, and faded, strong enough to incapacitate him but thankfully short. Now it just… lingered. Something had changed after they left Cybertron, and he didn’t understand why.

He tried to go about his day as normally as possible. The pain wasn’t debilitating, at least not yet, and his absence would be noticed on such a small ship. He managed to hide it pretty well, he felt. Even his best act couldn’t fool the Seekers. They didn’t say anything directly, not after the first time Skyfire brushed aside their concern, but they refused to leave him alone.

One or the other was constantly beside him. Even as their work cycle drew to a close and Skyfire made to retreat into his quarters alone, he somehow found himself with both Seekers cramped inside the small room instead, quite unsure how it had happened.

Shaking his head, overly fond of the Seekers’ tenacity despite himself, Skyfire grabbed a datapad and moved to sit beside them. Pain flared in his spark as he moved, powerful and unexpected, and he stumbled. The datapad he'd been holding fell from suddenly numb fingers to crash loudly against the hard metal floor, shattering from the impact.

For several long kliks, Skyfire just stared at the broken pieces, fighting the urge to rub at his still aching chest. “Sorry,” he muttered without looking at the pieces. He bent down to start brushing them into his clutched hands. “I’ll clean it, just—”

Two other pairs of hands entered his field of vision. One carefully pushed his hands aside; the other pulled him to his feet and over to the berth. He sat, yet Thundercracker’s hand remained resting against his arm. Even then, Skyfire resisted meeting his optics.

“Skyfire, are you alright?” Thundercracker asked. “You’ve been acting… _off_ all cycle. Did something happen?”

Skyfire’s hand twitched up towards his spark as it throbbed. He caught himself before his hand did more than spasm upwards and said, “I’m fine. It’s nothing you should worry about.”

Skywarp glanced up at them, one hand full of metal and glass shards. “So there is something wrong?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

 “It’s… I...” Skyfire stammered, but his excuses fell apart under the force of the Seekers’ concern. His voice failed him. Skywarp practically flung his handful of trash into the receptacle and squeezed onto the berth beside them, folding his wings back to fit.

 He didn’t want to burden them with his malfunctions. It wasn’t dangerous. Never had been. The Seekers didn't deserve the reminder of their own broken bond.

Yet… He couldn’t lie to them, and they wouldn’t let him brush the problem aside. Not again. And, though he could barely even admit it to himself, the thought of admitting what was happening to the Seekers was… tempting. Almost painfully so, after all these decavorns of silence.

Maybe… Maybe it was finally time to say something. Judging by the worry in their optics and the warm press of their frames against his side, he thought it was.

So, spark quickening in nervousness, Skyfire let his hand rise to rub against the sensitive plating of his chest. “It’s the bond,” he admitted quietly. “It can be… unpleasant, and it’s been acting up since we left Cybertron.” Which was quite an understatement, but he wasn’t about to explain the way the glitches incapacitated him.

Thundercracker’s hand spasmed on his arm, hard enough to leave shallow dents in the armor. Beside him, Skywarp was motionless.

They didn’t talk about Starscream. Not often, and never without pain. They shared a broken bond, regardless of the differences between Trine and Bonded, and the reminder of that loss—their missing link, missing Wing, missing _spark_ —would never fade.

“It’s still that bad?” Skywarp whispered, stunned. “I never--”

“Sparkbonds are deeper than Trinebonds,” Thundercracker said. His voice was quiet. Reserved. “It makes sense that the effects would be—harsher.” His voice tripped on the word, and his own hand raised above his spark in remembered pain. “Skyfire, why didn’t you _tell_ us?”

Skyfire just shook his head. “It’s not you,” he said. “Some things… Some things aren’t meant to be shared. Not with anyone.”

As he met the other two’s optics, he didn’t find any anger or resentment there, only sorrow and compassion. They understood. They weren’t happy about it, but they understood. Skyfire didn’t realize how much the possibility had been weighing on him until that moment.

“I miss him,” Skywarp whispered, the words soft, almost inaudible. “It doesn’t _hurt_ anymore, not the way it did at first, but sometimes it feels like it should.”

They didn’t need words to know the other two shared the sentiment.

They talked. About many things, some easy and some painful. The night cycle grew late. Eventually, the Seekers coerced him into returning to their slightly larger quarters with them. It was still cramped, even uncomfortable, but it worked. None of them were alone that night.

 _This was the right choice,_ he thought, just before recharge claimed him.

-/-

Despite the Ark’s headstart, the Decepticon flagship was faster. Eventually, inevitably, the Decepticons caught up.  They prepared to board.

Skyfire filed into the loading bay with the non-ranking Elites as orders were broadcasts to the different soldiers. He was left staring at a milling sea of red optics and thick, warrior grade plating. Skyfire felt distinctly out of place among them.

The broad doors to the rest of the ship swung open, and the Command Staff entered. Megatron's imposing presence was first, followed by other Combat specialists. Their Leader spoke quietly to the mecha surrounding him, though the low, indiscernible rumble of his voice seemed to fill the entire room. Thundercracker stood with him, though he was towards the rear of the group. Airframes in general were vastly more suited to aerial combat; the close quarters of the encroaching skirmish was ill suited to their frametypes.

At some unspoken signal, the Elites shifted, morphing from a disordered mass into organized battle lines. Skyfire was pushed to the back, where he gratefully stayed. He removed a high-quality plasma rifle from his subspace, clutching it against his side. Its weight was nearly as familiar to him as the technical tools he'd once wielded. He knew how to fire it—had trained himself in its use for decavorns—but this would be the first time he'd carry it into battle. His hands trembled against the barrel.

The boarding ramp clicked into place with a heavy thud, and the room fell silent. Nobody moved, nobody spoke, even their vents seemed to have stopped cycling. Then Megatron stepped forward with a loud roar, and they descended into chaos.

Megatron and the other Officers led the charge into the Ark. The Autobots were waiting for them. Skyfire heard the ground-shaking crash as the two sides collided, though he couldn’t see anything past the frames cluttering the narrow opening. He entered the boarding ramp last, after the first charge had already pushed the Autobots deeper into their ship.

Panic choked Skyfire’s throat even as he lingered at the back of the lines, far away from any actual Autobots. His back was pressed against the wall, as if he could meld with the metal if he tried hard enough. His plasma rifle, at least, remained clasped in his hands, held up and charge in a proper stance.

Ahead, in the twisting corridor, mecha ran in and out of his field of sight. Autobot red caught his optics. Before he could even think, his hand was on the trigger, and he fired. It connected, clipping the Autobot’s side and sending him spinning to the ground.

“Sorry!” Skyfire blurted out. Then he glanced around quickly to make sure nobody had heard his accidental apology.

The Autobot was back up and moving within kliks, singed and somewhat dented but not actually damaged. Skyfire was confused—and perversely grateful—for a moment before realization struck. Weapons grade armor. Of course all the Autobots would have it. Against that, a plasma rifle would cause only minor damage at anything less than point-blank range. Ironically, the thought made it easier for Skyfire to pull the trigger a second tine, aimed at a smaller Autobot camped out in the back.

He stayed there, firing out shots when he had the chance and supporting the Elites with his rifle. He couldn’t completely erase the guilt every time a shot connected, but he tried. A stray blaster bolt streaked past his head, nearly scorching the thinly armored plating of his cheek as it passed. Nobody came close enough for a real attack.

The fighting dragged on, klik after klik, and Skyfire couldn’t tell who was winning. There were always Autobots popping in and out and Decepticons engaging them. His audios were constantly assaulted by the chaotic clamor of colliding metal and the unmistakable whir of high-powered blasters.

The entire ship unexpectedly lurched to the side, forcing Skyfire heavily against a nearby orange wall. His processer immediately leapt into overdrive. He recognized that sensation. The ship was shuddering through the start of atmospheric reentry and, judging by the haphazard intensity of the quakes, they were descending far, far too rapidly. Even in the middle of a battle, no sane pilot would risk an uncontrolled landing over a completely unknown planet.

The ship shuddered again, harder this time, and didn’t quite stabilize again. It was too late now to pull free from the planet’s gravity.

They were going to crash.

Around him, mecha from both sides continued to fight, ignorant of what was happening. They didn’t stay oblivious for long. The ship tilted into a deeper dive, and the artificial gravity cut out all at once. Mecha from both sides were forced to stop fighting as their feet were yanked out from under them. Alarmed shouts filled the air as both sides struggled to stay standing, many of them sliding across the smooth metal floor. Skyfire grimly braced himself against a table bolted into the floor.

A winged, shrieking gray form tumbled past him, and Skyfire automatically reached out and snagged hold of the falling figure. It wasn’t a Seeker though—wasn’t a Flyer at all. Instead, Skyfire found himself clutching the leg of a grey Praxian, who seemed just as surprised to see Skyfire beside him, if rather disoriented from the fall. For a timeless moment, Skyfire met surprised, battle-bright blue optics.

Briefly, Skyfire was tempted to release the Praxian and let him continue his tumbling journey towards the back of the ship. He didn’t. Then the ship jerked again, and Skyfire quite unintentionally found himself guiding the other mech towards the table, where he latched onto his own handhold. After that, there wasn't time to worry about the other mech. The growing free-fall twisted out into a straighter path, and the added inertia almost tore him away from his handhold.

He didn't even register the impact before everything went black.

-/-

The next time he onlined, Skyfire felt like death. He wasn't onlining right—it was too slow, too uneven. Error messages vied for attention across his processer, coming from seemingly every part of his frame. The closest thing he could compare it to was coming out of medical stasis after a severe injury, but even that had been smoother than this haphazard onlining.

His sensor net reconnected, and he groaned at the aches and stiffness permeating his entire frame. He did his best to cut down the sensory feedback so he could think and focused on clearing his primary inputs instead. A bright orange blur greeted his optics, and he had to reset them several times before the smudges of black and blue in front of him solidified into Thundercracker's face. He slowly pushed himself up, hissing as every joint in his frame resisted the movement.

Thundercracker was saying something, but his audios hadn't recovered enough to interpret sound yet. Skyfire raised a hand to silence the Seeker and took a moment to correct the corrupted coding, making his audios fizzle back online. The clangs and clatter of mecha moving around filled his processer as he turned back to Thundercracker. For the first time, he noticed Skywarp beside his Trinemate, waiting for Skyfire’s systems to recover with as much patience as he possessed.

"What happened?" Skyfire asked after resetting his vocalizer several times.

They were still in the Ark, but the ship was most definitely not moving anymore. The silent thrum of the engines was still beneath them, and the weight of real gravity, not artificial, pulled at his frame.

Thundercracker hesitated, looking at him oddly. "Do you remember the crash?"

The memory files immediately scrolled to the front of his processer, and he nodded. That had been a Pit of a crash, and one that probably should have torn the ship apart around them, to say nothing of the mecha inside it. The Ark had to be a stronger ship than he'd assumed. He glanced around them, and the only mecha moving had the purple Decepticon insignia etched on their frames.

"We won?"

Skywarp grinned widely. "Yep!" he chirped. "We already found all the major players, and the Autobots are all out  _cold_. We could do whatever the slag we wanted to right now!"

Skyfire felt his processer stutter. The entire Autobot Command Staff had been on this ship—the Prime, the Second and Third of the army, most of the higher Autobot Elites. Even if the bulk of the Autobot army was still back on Cybertron, it meant little with their leadership essentially annihilated.

"What happens next?" he asked, honestly uncertain.

Skywarp shrugged. "We're gonna need a new ship, to start with. This one's code locked to the Autobots, and the Nemesis broke free during the crash. Who knows where it ended up? After that… I'm not sure. We'll return to Cybertron and finish the war, I suppose, and then… who knows?" His mouth quirked up in a smile. "I guess we're all going to have to learn how to live during peace again."

Peace. After all these millennia. It sounded impossible, but there was nothing Skyfire wanted more. He hoped this planet had enough resources to build a new ship. He didn’t fancy the idea of scavenging the Ark for parts, not with the original owners still inside and whatever traps they’d set waiting for them.

 A thought occurred to him, and he nearly groaned out loud. "I'm going to be doing maintenance checks for metacycles before we've fixed everyone's stasis damage," he said, already glancing at the two Seekers and tagging the many spots of degradation. Slag, those kind of repairs were time consuming and exceedingly tedious. He was going to want to claw his optics out by the time they were finished.

Skywarp laughed—a loud, full framed thing that was as much half-hysteric relief as humor. "Look at it this way," he said, still chuckling. "Without any new battle damage, you'll have a slagload of extra time to finish it in." He spun in place, looking back over his shoulder to talk to them. "Let's get outta here. Soundwave and Lord Megatron are still trying to hack the ship, but I want to see what kinda planet we're stuck on."

With that, Skywarp bounced merrily towards what Skyfire assumed was the exit, and they followed closely behind. They passed the grey Praxian only a few mechameters from where he'd onlined, where the impact must have thrown him. Skyfire resisted the urge to nudge him or any other offline Autobots as he navigated around their prone forms.

They were only in a deep stasis, not deactivated, though it was a close thing. Energy conservation had shut down all of their systems except spark-containment. The only way Skyfire could tell they were still alive was by the color of their armor. By the looks of it, they had a couple more vorns, a decavorn at most before lack of energon extinguished their sparks. Skyfire almost opened his mouth to ask why they were leaving the Autobots alone, but he thought better of it. He didn't want to give them ideas. At war they might be, but the idea of deactivating an unconscious, stasis-locked mech made his spark clench with disgust.

Thundercracker must have followed his gaze anyway. He sighed, prodding a stray limb away from their feet. "Megatron wants to leave them there to deactivate on their own. I'm not sure why. He probably thinks it's a fitting end."

Skywarp snorted and pranced back to their side to whisper conspiratorially. "Pretty slagging petty if you ask me, but Lord Megatron is acting a bit… strange." Then he yelped as his trinemate pinched the tip of his wing with a sharp glare.

"Not. Here," Thundercracker hissed lowly, glancing tellingly at the assorted mecha still wandering nearby. Skywarp had the grace to look guilty and murmur an apology.

"Let's keep going," he said, properly chastened. Not that it would last very long. By the time they had reached the uncovered exit, Skywarp was back to his normal, chatty self.

The loading hatch was open, and planetary debris littering the area outside the entryway. It was a distinctly organic planet, absolutely coated with small, green growths that brushed oddly against the bottom of his feet. The soft ground sank slightly under his weight, and some of the delicate growths broke off, leaving oddly textured smears in his seams. Glancing back, he was surprised to find that the rest of the ship disappeared into a large, natural mountain sticking up from the planetary crust. The crash must have taken them straight into the side of a cliff, of all things. Even if they manage to gain control of the Ark, it would take stellar cycles to free the ship. He sighed and put the thought out of his mind, turning back to the open air.

They'd gotten lucky. Extraordinarily so. This was one of the most habitable planets he'd ever seen, with stable atmospheric conditions, a solid ground, and no immediately visible hazards. A few ridiculously tiny organics wandering around in the distance, though they looked to be the organic equivalent of drones instead of anything sentient.

The clouds of moisture suspended in the atmosphere shifted farther away, and a glowing ball of heat blazed out from behind them. Everyone froze as bright rays of light reflected off of their armor.

The planet had a  _sun._ One close enough for the tickle of energy to spread across his plating. Skyfire felt his plating loosen to expose more surface area to the wonderful flux of energy, and the mecha around him did the same. Beside him, Skywarp murmured in contentment. They didn't have any of the modifications that would allow their frames to convert the light efficiently, but it was enough to send a pleasant rush of energy across their sensor nets.

"I think I'm really going to like this planet," Skywarp murmured happily from beside him. "An open sky, free energy, and no Autobots to muck it all up. Could do without all the organic mess, but, hey, nothing's perfect."

They stood outside, lazing around and idly basking in the sunlight, as they waited for orders. More Decepticons trickled out of the ship to join them, and Skyfire counted nearly all of the mecha from the Nemesis, including several Command Staff. The Twins were already out and running around the clearing. Their Host was nowhere to be found, but the other Cassettes, their brothers, played with them, enjoying the sunshine and newfound freedom.

Skyfire straightened to attention when a visibly fuming Megatron came stomping out of the Ark with Soundwave at his side. Immediately activating his anti-gravs, Megatron flew towards the top edge of the cliff, and the rest of the Decepticons obediently followed. Megatron was waiting for them, staring coldly out at the gathering mecha.

"The Ark is useless to us," he growled, pacing along the edge of the cliff. He stopped in its center and faced them, his form silhouetted against the strange blue sky. "We have been given a far greater prize, though," he continued loudly. "This planet is rich in resources, and it will give us the resources we need to not only create a new ship but gather enough energy to return to Cybertron stronger than ever!"

He turned and took off into the sky with a rallying cry. The rest of the Decepticons, accessing their own anti-grav mods, followed with echoing shouts of victory and excitement.

Skyfire had already activated his thrusters and was about to follow when Skywarp paused and glanced back at the small orange piece of the Ark that was still visible. He hummed thoughtfully—a sound that immediately sent up red flags in both Skyfire and Thundercracker's processer. A thoughtful Skywarp was  _not_ a good, rule-following Skywarp, and that sound almost always led to trouble.

"Skywarp…" Thundercracker growled in warning.

The other Seeker just grinned, optics bright with a familiar gleam of mischief.

Thundercracker groaned. "Skywarp,  _no._ " He didn't make a move to stop his trinemate though, just waited in the resigned, exasperated silence of a mech who knew when something was just plain futile.

The grin spread wider. Skywarp lifted up one of the integrated rifles along his arm and leveled it at the orange prow of the ship just barely sticking out of the mountain.

"Lighten up, TC," he teased.

Then he fired. The shot struck the head of the ship head on, warping the metal with its heat before deflecting into the mountainside. Clumps of dirt and stone were shaken loose from the force to fall heavily down on the Ark and surrounding area with satisfying thuds. Skywarp giggled and made as if to shoot the ship again, but this time Thundercracker stepped in and pushed the rifle down before it could be charged.

"You've had your fun," he said. "Let's catch up with the rest before we lose them."

Skywarp huffed, though he obediently let the charge disperse. After a moment, Thundercracker released his wingmate's arm and stepped back. Skywarp immediately leapt into the air and transformed. His alt-mode was, oddly enough, different now—smoother and slightly smaller, with odd seams and cavities.

::Race ya there! :: he commed, the glyphs bright and cheerful with glee. Then he took off, speeding towards the distant clouds of moisture and the faint forms of the other Decepticons. Thundercracker shouted something uncomplimentary at his trinemate, but he still transformed to give chase. Skyfire followed at a more sedate pace, absentmindedly cataloguing the differences in his own alt-mode. He watched the two Seekers playing in the new atmosphere. Already, life was starting to look up.

~.*.~


	11. Exploring Earth

Skyfire hefted a large metal beam towards the framework of the new ship, groaning as the movement tugged against stressed parts.  The half-constructed ship made for an imposing sight. Metal girders curled into the blue sky, striping the ground with shadows as the interior slowly filled in. Further back, on the cleanest strip of stone they could find, technicians crawled across what would become the new mainframe. Soundwave stood in the middle, connected to the newly formed circuitry with thick cables as he uploaded coding from his memory banks.

The new ship was coming together quickly, with every mecha (forced into) helping. Most of the crew was kept busy finding raw materials and molding them into something usable. Nobody wanted to delay their return home any longer than necessary.

Skyfire smiled as he heard the low rumble of jet engines overhead. His face turned towards the sky in time to see Skywarp transforming above him. He dropped the thick sheets of metal he’d been carrying into a heap by the rest of the raw material before jogging to Skyfire’s side. He was smiling.

“You won’t _believe_ what I just saw!” Skywarp said, falling into step beside him. “I mean, I’ll show you the memory files later, but there’s whole _towns_ of organics! Sentient ones! They were all squishy and weird, but I figured you’d like them.”

Curiosity kindled in Skyfire’s spark, stronger than he’d felt in vorns and voracious in its intensity. “ _Fascinating_ ,” he breathed. “I look forward to seeing the files. I’m almost disappointed we’re leaving so quickly. If I had more time…”

Maybe someday, after things settled on Cybertron, he could come back. Resume his old studies. The war was all but over, after all, and the future was wide open.

“How are the repairs holding up?” Skyfire asked. “Were there any problems during your flight?”

Skywarp shrugged. The degradation from their extended stasis had been minor but, as with everyone in the crash, it had been widespread. “No real problems. I mean, it’s annoying as slag, but--”

Something hit the metal of the ship behind them. Energy burst against a support beam, accompanied by the piercing whine of a high-powered plasma bolt. The shining fragments of energy disappeared, leaving singed metal behind.

Skyfire’s first thought was that something had backfired. One of their few working machines, perhaps, or a poorly maintained weapon. The others reacted far quicker. Beside him, Skywarp’s weapons already whirred to life, along with those of the other warriors. Megatron had his fusion cannon out and was brandishing it menacingly towards the surrounding plains.

And in the distance, twin clouds of dust picked up as two Grounders raced away.

“Impossible,” Skyfire breathed, watching them go. The Autobots were all in stasis. They were unconscious. _Defeated._ Cries sprung up around him, exclamations of shock alongside terse orders, but Skyfire couldn’t process the noise. He barely registered when Laserbeak took off after the distant figures, or when more mecha organized into a true pursuit.

Skywarp seemed suddenly unsteady besides him. “Oh, slag,” he breathed, leaning heavily against Skyfire’s armor. “ _Slag._ ”

“How did they wake up?” Skyfire asked, deeply shaken. His voice reflected the helpless horror curling through his spark. “They were all stasis locked, trapped under a mountain and surrounded by hics of empty land. What could have--”

Skywarp's little game with the ship. The boulders falling on the Ark hard enough to shake it.

Had Skywarp…? No.  _No._ He resolutely ignored that thread of thought, erasing it from his processer. It had to have been the ship. The Ark wasn't a sparked ship, but it had a highly sophisticated AI. Surely the AI, and the AI alone, had reactivated the Autobots.

It was the right answer. The  _only_ possible answer.

The one that wouldn't get Skywarp outright deactivated if Megatron ever found out.

After a few moments staring uneasily at the spot the Autobots had been, Megatron barked at them to continue working. Everyone slowly turned back to the half-finished ship, picking up tools and materials slightly more urgently than before, but Skyfire caught almost everyone sneaking glances back at the empty mountain.

-/-

The Autobots were definitely back. All of them.

They showed up at every failed excursion and attempted raid, always a half-step behind and threatening to overtake them. Mecha started coming back with battle damage again, and the med-bay was always busy. Despite the Autobot Elite’s best attempts, the ‘Cons escaped with sizeable stocks of energon more often than not, and the bare framework they’d created flourished into a true spaceship.

With only one raid between them and a successful takeoff, Megatron grabbed every Elite and marched onward. Skyfire stayed behind with the technicians, offering his coding knowledge to the newly created mainframe’s final check. It was a tedious task, though far preferable to the alternative.

Most of the sections were done, save for a few straggling technicians with the scanning equipment, when Skyfire heard the first stirrings of a commotion from outside. He wandered towards the open bay doors, curious and mildly concerned. Blaster fire caught his optic—bright streaks of concentrated energy flashing across the plains. They led to the familiar shapes of Decepticons racing towards the ship with energy cubes in tow. The Autobots were farther out and steadily advancing.

"Send a message to the Navigator that we need to start activating the engines," Skyfire told a nearby technician, who was staring blankly at the battle. "I get the feeling we’ll need to leave quickly."

Snapping out of his surprise, the technician sprinted back into the heart of the ship, com transmissions rapidly branching off from his form. Skyfire remained by the entryway, watching the battle worriedly. He could make out Skywarp and Thundercracker exchanging shots with a cluster of Autobots on the side. Megatron, of course, was at the middle, matching the Prime blow for blow. It was the first time Skyfire had actually seen the newest Prime. He was… rather flashy, even from this distance.

The Decepticons worked their way towards the ship until a short pause in the battle finally allowed them to break away to the loading ramp. Skyfire quickly got out of the way. Megatron was the first to enter, already shouting orders to prepare for launch. He took his place at the front of the Command Deck, leaving the rest of the Elites to disperse throughout the ship.

The powerful engines of the ship quickly rumbled to life underneath them, rushing through their activation and lifting the ship faster than was technically safe. It was worth it to know the Autobots would soon be disappearing behind them.

Time to go home. _Finally._

Skyfire tentatively started to relax. It would take the Autobots, with their soft-sparked refusal to steal from the natives, at least a stellar cycle to excavate and repair the Ark. By then, the Decepticons would have Cybertron well in hand. It wasn’t as good as having the Autobot Elite out of the way entirely, but it was still something.

He took a deep, cleansing breath as his frame calmed. His systems kept trying to cycle back up, jumping at shadows, but he forced himself to take careful, measured steps towards the Command Deck. Thundercracker would certainly be there, likely Skywarp as well. They would be released from duty soon after leaving the atmosphere, and then they could-

Plasma blasts. Weapon fire. Skyfire _ran._ He burst into the Command Deck, blaster in hand, and chaos met him. Dazed mecha lay on the floor as others shouted. Evidence of blaster fire was scattered across the room, and the navigational array was in complete disarray. He just barely caught a glimpse of an Autobot—Mirage, one of the more famous Autobot saboteurs—as the mech disappeared through an escape hatch.

As soon as he vanished, the ship shuddered dangerously beneath their feet. Their ascent slowed; stopped.On the Command Deck, nobody seemed to know what to do. The navigational equipment was outright  _on fire_ , and varying Commanders shouted orders that nobody was listening to. Soon enough, they lost what little control of the ship they'd retained, and the ship spiraled back towards the planet.

They hit with a loud, frame-shaking thud that sent him crashing to his knees. Surprisingly, the ship held together—another nod to the Constructicon's skill. Skyfire slowly took to his feet, stumbling slightly as his leg registered minor hydraulics damage. More error messages pinged from the rest of his frame; the partially-healed stasis damage hadn’t managed the stress well.

As he steadied himself, it felt as if the ship was still moving, though that was impossible. He reset his gyros, sure that the crash had jarred some internal sensors, but the sense of falling persisted. Then the ship tipped several degrees to the side. No way _that_  was from a misfiring sensory cluster. Abruptly, he remembered there had been a large body of water located nearby. They must have crashed into the liquid.

And now they were sinking. Fast. He could only hope that the waters on this planet didn't run too deep. If the weaker material of the ship collapsed under the pressure, it would be an unpleasant journey back to land, to say the least. Particularly considering the damage contaminants could do to injuries.

A hand grabbed his arm, and Skyfire looked down to find Thundercracker, optics wild, staring up at him. “Are you damaged?” he asked, though the words were almost lost beneath the din. Skyfire nodded, and they turned to resume staring at the wreck before them.

The ship finally hit the seabed with a gentle thud. The metal above their heads creaked ominously for a few kliks before settling down under its new burden. Then all was silent. More mecha stumbled stiffly to their feet, sending apprehensive glances around them. All of them eventually focused on one spot.

Megatron stood alone in the center of the Command Deck; the rest of the Decepticons had long since cleared away from the near-tangible fury surrounding him. He looked an astrosecond from snapping, and nobody, not even Soundwave, dared move and risk drawing his wrath. His optics finally focused on Hook, and even the proud Commander flinched under that stare.

"Build us a way to reach the surface again," he ordered frighteningly calmly. Then he strode out of the room, silent and deadly as an acid storm.

…

Nobody in the ship was happy.

Megatron stalked around the ship like a wraith, barking orders and making frequent demands of whomever crossed his path. Accordingly, the Grunts—and even some of the Officers—had taken to staying in their hastily chosen barracks instead. It left the halls disturbingly deserted whenever Skyfire was forced to travel through them.

Still, as the orns passed, the cycles fell into a strange, expectant sort of tedium. Aside from the Constructicons and med-bay, there was nothing they could do except stay out of Megatron’s way. Even in the med-bay, his work, which was almost solely repairing neglected stasis-damage, quickly grew monotonous. The Seekers frequently stopped by. Sometimes to talk. Sometimes to watch. Skyfire enjoyed the company but, sometimes…

Well, Skywarp could be… strange.

Maybe it was a side effect of the war, which tended to exacerbate certain quirks, or maybe it was just an integral part of the Seeker. Regardless, after megavorns of living beside him, Skyfire had grown to expect certain quirks. Teleports anywhere and for any reason, including inside the washracks or directly above Skyfire’s berth in the middle of the night cycle. A complete, blissful ignorance of personal space. Strange, fleeting obsessions with anything or anyone.

So when Skywarp spent an entire cycle perched beside Skyfire’s workstation and staring intently as his face, it didn’t even register as unusual. He just carried on normally, working patiently and occasionally nudging Skywarp out of the way. He was almost surprised when the Seeker spoke instead of silently warping away to pursue his next shiny.

“I was in the mess hall earlier,” he said, legs swinging from where he was perched on a desk, “and I noticed something.”

Skyfire nodded absentmindedly. “Mm?”

 “Didja realize you’re the only mech with blue optics on the ship?

Skyfire’s hands paused on the small bit of armor he’d been refurbishing. “No,” he said slowly. “No, I did not.”

Thinking back though, he wasn’t surprised. Iaconian blue optics had always been uncommon in the 'Cons, particularly among the Elite, who much favored Kaonite or Vosnian red regardless of their actual heritage. There had always been a few though—mecha he’d passed in the hallway with little other interaction.

Their absence didn’t mean anything, of course. Skyfire didn’t know why the realization still felt so disconcerting.

-/-

Later, on his way back to his room, he was startled when something landed on his shoulder and pecked sharply at his neck.

“ _Ow_ , I—Lazerbeak?” He blinked down at the Cassetticon, surprised. The small mech tilted his head at him. Then he took to the air again, gliding into a nearby hall. Barely hesitating, Skyfire followed. A few turns later, he ran into the Twins bickering by a wall. Laserbeak had, unsurprisingly, vanished.

The Cassetticons looked up at his entrance, and Rumble raised a hand in greeting. “Ey, Skyfire. How ya holding up?” he asked.

Skyfire inclined his head. “Well enough,” he said. Then, “What’s going on?”

They exchanged glances. Skyfire took a closer look. The Cassetticons seemed… stressed. Their frames were faintly scuffed, and they held themselves warily instead of with their normal, easy confidence. They kept eyeing the corridor too, as if keeping watch. If Skyfire hadn’t been concerned before, he certainly was now.

 “We’ve got a warning ta pass on, to you and your Seekers,” Rumble said. His voice was quiet, vastly different from his usual drawl.  “Tread carefully ‘round Megatron, alright?”

Skyfire nodded, more confused than anything. “We’ll be cautious,” he promised. “We’ve dealt with Megatron’s demands before, and we--”

Frenzy groaned. “You’re not _listenin’_ ,” he snapped. “We wouldn’t be warning ya ‘bout the normal slag. Something’s different this time. Has been since we got outta stasis. I dunno what it is—Soundwave ain’t talking—but it’s even got the Boss nervous.”

Skyfire’s confusion worsened into true unease. He nodded. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I’ll let them know.” Then, quieter, “Thank you.” A warning like that, no matter how vague, was dangerous to give.

The Cassette snorted. “Don’t mention it. Seriously.” Message delivered, he looked ready to go. Rumble turned back before he could take a step.

“Ya want my advice?” he said. “Stay outta the line of fire as much as ya can. Use some a that free flying time you Flyers got squirreled away and explore Earth for a bit.”

Skyfire nodded again. He hesitated though. “Earth?” Skyfire repeated, testing the strange word. It was a conglomeration of the glyphs for the surface of a planet and the scientific term for organic sludge.

Rumble laughed, and his tone lightened to something resembling normal. “’S what the Grunts started calling the planet. All the Official Business is still using the ‘Iacon-Approved” designation. It’s a real mouthful, something like, uh, UCO-s8529-something.”

Skyfire’s spark froze.

“761-3?” he finished, voice barely a whisper.

Rumble nodded. “Yeah, that sounds right!” He leaned forward slightly. “Hey, you alright? You look a little-”

“I need to go.” His spark was _aching_ now, and his processer was full of static. He stumbled when he turned around. The Cassetticons called after him, but he didn’t hear.

He recognized that identification number. Decavorns had passed since he’d heard it, but the numbers had been etched into his memory banks. He’d named the planet himself, after all. Him and Starscream. Right before he’d--

Somehow—he wasn’t sure how—he made it back to his quarters. Skyfire entered silently, without even bothering to access the lights. He sat on the edge of the berth, rested his helm in his hands, and tried very, very hard not to think.

-/-

Eventually, Skyfire's silent vigil was interrupted. Light bled into the room as the door hissed open, followed by the light scuff of a ped against the floor. Skyfire didn't look up. For a few kliks of silence, the mech stayed at the door, just looking in. Then the lights flickered on, and the footsteps moved closer until the berth jostled slightly under the weight of another frame.

"Skyfire?" It was Skywarp. His voice was flecked with concern. "What's going on?”

For several long moments, Skyfire didn't answer. Then, finally, he lifted his head up. For once, he didn't have to look down to meet Skywarp’s optics. His frame had folded in on himself so much that they were almost the same height.

Skyfire opened his mouth to say… something, but the words caught in his throat.

"Skyfire?" Skywarp repeated. He fidgeted, systems whining loudly as he waited under Skyfire's unfocused gaze.

Skyfire couldn't look at him when he finally began. "This is the place," he said blankly, optics firmly focused on the wall in front of them. “I was—the Twins were there, and they mentioned-.” He shuddered. “Didn’t mean anything to them. Course not—just coordinates, and _Primus,_ I couldn’t-”

A touch to his arm, stopped the disjointed rush of words. Frowning, Skywarp shifted closer until the edges of their frames touched, offering what comfort he could. "What place?" he asked. Skyfire latched onto the question, desperate to focus his thoughts.

"Where it happened. Where we crashed."

Skywarp's cooling fans stopped. Then they whirled frantically back to life as a shocked, pained whine escaped him. Now that he’d started, Skyfire couldn't seem to stop.

"Isn't it ironic?" He let out a dark, humorless laugh—a toneless sound that echoed unpleasantly in the quiet room. "What were the chances? Hundreds of thousands of vorns trying to forget this planet even existed, and it's the one in billions that we managed to get trapped on. Though I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised—I was the one to mark the vast stockpiles of energy on the planet, after all. "

Skywarp was silent. Unable to help himself, Skyfire finally glanced over at his companion. The Seeker was completely still, face slack in shock. Emotion had darkened his optics to a deep, painful burgundy, and his cooling system worked overtime to calm his strained systems. Skyfire felt the urge to reach over and comfort the smaller flier, but he couldn't force his numb arms to move.

They were interrupted when the door slammed open, metal screeching as gears were forced to move faster than their design allowed. Thundercracker burst into the room, weaponry online and audibly humming with charge.

Thundercracker hesitated at the still room, optics darting around as he scanned for a threat. Finding none, he focused on his Trinemate in confusion. “Skywarp?” he asked as he joined them on the berth. “What’s wrong? You felt like--”

He trailed off. His hand lifted to trace comforting patterns onto Skywarp’s wings. Skywarp leaned into him and seemed to calm marginally at the contact. Then Thundercracker’s searching optics found Skyfire’s.

“I--” Skyfire started, but the words were harder to find a second time.

Then Skywarp raised his head. “Starscream deactivated here,” he said dully. “On this planet. This is where they were when they…”

Thundercracker stiffened. His wings flared in surprise and pain. Skywarp kept talking, this time aiming the words at Skyfire. “His frame’s still on this planet, right? What—what’s left of it, at least.”

Skyfire nodded weakly. “We were at the Northern pole. The ice would have-” His vocalizer hiccupped, “ _preserved_ the frame.”

Skywarp straightened “We can find it then,” he continued. His voice, previously lackluster, gained momentum. “He’s here. We could finally get his frame out of the slagging ice and give him to the Sky instead.”

Skyfire's processer skipped at the thought. Failing to recover Starscream’s frame had been one of his greatest regrets—it had been a betrayal of his memory, and he knew it had hurt the Seekers even if they'd never blamed him for it.

"Megatron would never authorize it," Thundercracker said. His voice was steady, but his wings trembled where they were pressed against Skywarp’s "Pit, he'd throw us all on punishment duty just for suggesting we waste energon on something so sentimental."

" _Megatron_ doesn't have to know," Skywarp entreated with growing animation. His optics lightening to a more normal color as the thought gained traction in his processer. "We could do it ourselves. Go on our off shift when nobody's looking. It's not like we're needed for anything other than the raids. Megatron barely comes out of his quarters anyway, and nobody would miss us on our off-shift."

It was an intoxicating idea. For a moment, Skyfire let the fantasy wash over him. They would search and, this time, they would find him. In the fantasy, Starscream's frame had been preserved almost perfectly by the ice, as if Skyfire had managed to find him so many vorns ago. They'd be able to give him a Flyers burial, laying him to rest where he was meant to be. But it was just a moment.

“It won't work," Skyfire whispered. The words were almost physically painful to say. Skywarp flinched and opened his mouth as if to argue; Skyfire continued before he could. "We're stuck in a ship in the middle of the ocean—it's not  _possible_ to get out without Megatron knowing. You couldn't even warp far enough to get out of the scanner's range."

Skywarp shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "So we'll go when he lets us out to fly. We're  _Seekers._ He knows we have to get out every couple orbital cycles. We'll just fly there and get back before he can figure out we went farther than usual."

"We still wouldn't have enough time,” Skyfire said. “It would take at least a megacycle to get there, even at our top speed. Even if you could get authorization to stay out of the Nemesis that long, we barely even know where to look."

He'd spent orns looking for Starscream before lack of energon had forced him away. Now, so many decavorns later, finding him would be even more difficult. The organic planet's surface was inherently unstable. His frame had undoubtedly been moved by normal tectonic rhythm over the millennia. With enough time and equipment, they could find him. Pit, he would spend  _vorns_ looking if that was what it took, but they just didn't have the time. Not now. Probably not until the war was actually over.

He hated seeing the hope fade from Skywarp's optics as reality started to sink in. "But… we're so close," Skywarp said, voice cracking. "We can't just  _leave_ him there. It's  _Starscream._ "

Thundercracker tugged his trinemate closer against his side as he spoke up again. "He wouldn't want us to risk out sparks for a shell," he stated quietly.

Skywarp looked between the other two for a moment before letting out a low, miserable whimper and curling into his trinemate's side. They didn't try to speak again. For once, the two Seekers didn't head back to their quarters as the night wore on. Skyfire was grateful for the company.

-/-

In the following orns, Skyfire threw himself into his work. The med-bay kept him busy, even moreso once he was asked to help develop ways to synthesize their own energy. Skyfire was grateful for the challenge. The few times he had nothing to occupy his processer went poorly.

He still saw the Seekers, but less often now. As soon as the Constructicons finished the docking tower to the surface, Megatron restarted the raids on the organics. The Autobots, of course, always showed up, and the resulting battles were just as destructive as they’d been before the disastrous flight. After the first few raids, Skyfire and the other medics started waiting for the wounded at the loading bay. It saved time for the more severely injured mecha.

He arrived in time to watch the docking tower spiraling back into the main ship. Taking his place slightly behind the Head Medic, Skyfire waited for the bay doors to open. Uninjured ‘Cons poured out first, carrying glowing cubes of poorly refined energon. There were less of them than he would have expected, and more mecha cradling moderate damage. Megatron, of course, was at the front. He was visibly furious as he faced the returning Decepticons—a very bad sign. The raid must have gone poorly.

"Report," Megatron ordered lowly, face a blank mask hiding a burning rage. His voice carried easily across the silent room.

A nervous ripple spread through the returning Decepticons as Megatron's gaze swept over them. Nobody stepped forward. Megatron's blazing optics finally stopped, seemingly at random, on Thundercracker. The Seeker's wings twitched, the only sign of his unease. He doubted the grounders even noticed the slight movement.

When he spoke, Thundercracker's voice was as composed as always. "The Autobots mobilized quicker than we'd expected," he started, modulating his tone with a carefully calculated mix of strength and subservience. "The energon collection process began as predicted, but we were unable to synthesis enough energon before the fight began, though our forces delayed them for several more breems. When the Autobot reinforcements arrived, we-"

"How much energon did we collect?" Megatron interrupted.

Thundercracker hesitated. His wings flinched again. Megatron took three steps forward, putting him directly in front of the Seeker. Thundercracker had to crane his neck upward to meet their Leader's optics.

" _How much!_ " Megatron bellowed. The entire room flinched at the sound.

"About twenty kilo units of fuel," Thundercracker answered quietly.

Skyfire almost gasped. Scrap. It was barely half of what they'd been expecting to get. And from the look of it, enough mecha had been damaged that the next raid would be at least an orn away. They wouldn't be sending any energon to Cybertron this cycle. They'd be lucky if they could keep everyone on full rations.

Thundercracker shifted nervously under Megatron's continued attention. His optics flickered towards the other Elite, but none stepped forward to help him.

"Commander, I-" Thundercracker began as the silence became too much.

Megatron hit him.

Thundercracker's helm snapped backwards as he was backhanded. He stumbled backwards, nearly falling over as his balance faltered. Megatron followed him step for step. Thundercracker straightened, optics bright with shock.

Skyfire was rooted to the floor. For all that Megatron had done, he'd never publicly damaged any of his soldiers. Common soldiers were beneath him, and ranked mecha had the dignity of a private punishment. Something had changed. And Thundercracker was caught in the middle of it.

"Where was my Air Force!" Megatron roared.

"Sir, the Twins were-"

Megatron hit him again. The punch landed in the center of Thundercracker's cockpit, cracking the glass and forcing a startled shout of pain from the Seeker. Thundercracker fell to one knee, cradling his chest. It was a moment before he could push himself back upright, frame shaking with aftershocks.

"No excuses!" Megatron growled. "You're failure  _cost us the battle!_ "

With that, Megatron seemed to lose what little self-control had been holding him back. Ignoring Thundercracker's stumbling attempts at an explanation, Megatron continued hitting him, denting plating and rupturing energon lines. Thundercracker didn't dare defend himself. Not against Megatron. Not when insubordination would only worsen the punishment.

Across the room, Skywarp started pushing past other mecha to reach his trinemate—to do what, Skyfire didn't know—but he was stopped by another Seeker. The mech hissed at him for a few kliks, and he somehow convinced Skywarp to stay put. Good. If they tried to interfere, they'd only make Megatron angrier and the punishment worse. There was nothing they could do. No way to help Thundercracker.

It was the only reason Skyfire could force himself to stay still as the punishment wore on.

Skyfire wanted to push past the mecha between him and Thundercracker and pull the Seeker away from their Leader. His interstellar-grade armor would bear the blows better than the thin plating of a Seeker anyway.

He wanted Skywarp to grab his trinemate and teleport them both far, far away from Megatron’s fury, to wait the worst of his temper out and return when he was thinking clearly again.

He didn't do either because he  _knew_ they would all just make the situation worse.

When Megatron went for Thundercracker's wings, his fingers leaving deep gouges in the thin, sensitive metal, Skyfire couldn't watch anymore. He averted his optics from the Seeker and the small, growing puddle of energon surrounding him. The rest of the Decepticons still stood in silent rows on the other side of the room, watching. A few, mainly Flyers, had looked away as well, but none dared move. Many of them shifted uncomfortably as the punishment stretched on, and Skyfire could see unease peeking through the unaffected facades they all wore.

Skyfire didn't fool himself into thinking they were worried about Thundercracker. As far as Commanders went, the Seeker was a good one and had earned the reluctant respect of many, but none would have spared him a thought if he'd been deactivated in battle. No, they were uneasy because Megatron was beating the slag out of his Air Commander—a mech he'd personally chosen to be among the most valuable soldiers in his army.

And if Megatron decided that a High Commander could be publicly beaten after a failed raid, then who would it be next time?

It felt like an eternity before Megatron finally stopped. Thundercracker was nearly offline, barely even flinching under the blows anymore. Megatron stood over him, armor flared out aggressively and vents whirring loudly. Then he turned and, without a word, stalked away. The Decepticons between him and the door nearly fell over themselves scrambling out of his way.

As soon as the door snapped closed, cutting Megatron out of view, Skywarp was by his trinemate's side. He keened softly at the damage and reached out to stem the flow of energon from one of the deeper cuts. Skyfire joined him within half a klik. He immediately accessed Thundercracker's medical port and applied a strong sensor-blocking code in case the Seeker regained consciousness. He hoped he wouldn't. They both ignored the rest of the Decepticons as they filed out of the room, murmuring among themselves

When he was sure movement wouldn't worsen the damage, Skyfire lifted the Seeker off the floor, careful not to jostle his wounds or even touch the damaged sensors of his wings. The damage wasn’t fatal—wasn’t even close, thank Primus—but he needed the med-bay.

They passed few mecha in the hallways and fewer willing to meet their optics. The entire ship seemed subdued, lacking the normal rambunctious clamor of warriors still battle-charged with excess energy.

Other injured mecha clustered around the med-bay, and Hook was muttering loudly as he worked on them. He glanced at them as they entered, then returned to his patient without a word. Taking that as permission, Skyfire carried Thundercracker into one of the few private rooms.

Neither spoke as Skyfire worked. Skywarp sat on the edges of Thundercracker's berth as close as he could get to his trinemate without being in the way. He stared numbly at the damage, his hand lightly tracing the new weld marks crawling up one half-repaired thruster.

"It wasn't even his fault," Skywarp finally said, speaking for the first time since leaving the loading bay. "The Twins attacked me, and TC came to help. And then some other Autobot grounders showed up, and we got tied up making sure the Autobots didn't cut off our escape route. If we hadn't, then they'd have just surrounded us and we wouldn't of even gotten away with the energon we did." One hand dug into the metal berth below him, nearly denting the dense metal. "It wasn't our fault we slagging lost. It  _wasn't._ "

"I know."

Thundercracker was too experienced, as a fighter and a tactician, to make a mistake that would ruin an entire battle. Thundercracker had become Air Commander for a reason. He'd maintained his position for megavorns by being irreplaceable, both in battle and out of it. Now this happened.

“Rumble and Frenzy were right,” Skyfire murmured. “We need to be careful. More than ever.”

This wouldn’t be the last time Megatron punished one of his soldiers. Much as Skyfire wanted to reject the thought, he couldn’t. He could only pray it would be someone else next time.

                                                           ~.*.~    

**AN** : Sorry for the random hiatus! I took the MCAT in January, so the months before then were consumed with studying and afterwards I was playing catch-up with everything else. Updates should resume a more regular schedule now though.


	12. The Raid

 Megatron rarely emerged from his rooms anymore. When he did, his anger was an almost physical presence, and the other mecha scattered from him. He hadn't attack anyone else, but even Soundwave, Megatron's most trusted Officer, stepped lightly around him.  The only time the ship looked full was right before or after the raids, when  the Elites gathered to fight. While there were no notable victories, the energon they gathered was livable. Never quite enough, but livable.

After the raids, Skyfire met the returning fighters at the loading dock when he could. Increasingly often, though, Hook ordered him to stay behind to prep the med-bay. Skyfire was triple checking that everything had been properly stocked when the first patients came in, and he got to work.

It was a mild raid. Nobody was bleeding out, needed full replacement parts, or was put into stasis. Instead, Skyfire had a steady stream of basic battle damage and standard repairs. Skyfire steadily worked his way through the patients, ordering around the various, half-trained assistance as he went. Hook didn't come back. Skyfire wondered about it in the kliks between patients.

By the time Rumble clambered up on the berth with a busted arm, they were almost done with the first rush of repairs. Skyfire's smile was tired but genuine, and Rumble grinned back at him.

"How's Thundercracker holding up?" Rumble asked, holding his arm out for inspection. It had been dented rather badly from some sort of collision, and the outer plating was bent inwards. There wasn't any spilled energon, which was a good sign.

"The repairs are going well," Skyfire said, removing the warped plating. "He should resume his normal duties soon." He paused then, softer, continued. "We appreciate your concern."

He meant for more than just that moment. Rumble had tried to warn them about Megatron's increased instability before. Despite what had happened, he appreciated the attempt.

Rumble looked at him strangely, like he was waiting for a punchline that wouldn't come. He glanced down, embarrassed. "You three are some of the only chill people 'round here. Specially Skywarp. It'd be a shame if something happened to ya."

"Like I said-thank you."

Rumble brushed him off with a joke and Skyfire let it go. In the ensuing silence, he prepared himself for Rumble's usual chatter, but it didn't come. Skyfire frowned as he replaced some of the smaller damaged bits near Rumble's elbow.

"Did something else happen?"

Rumble shrugged. It jostled Skyfire's hand on his arm. Skyfire waited and, eventually, Rumble kept talking. "There's been another one. A guy named Onslaught this time—one of the new mecha. 'Parently his Gestalt didn't do well enough against Superion. I betcha Hook's dealing with him now."

Skyfire finished the repairs in silence. He knew little about the two new Gestalts that had joined the ship. One had come from Cybertron as soon kind of gift from Shockwave, another was composed of Newbuilds. So far, he hadn't seen any in the medbay and rarely glimpsed them in the halls or rec-room. It didn't bode well that Megatron had already targeted one of them

-/-

Thundercracker was back on duty the next solar cycle, which meant he resumed his position on High Command. Skyfire was almost trembling with nerves the first time Thundercracker retook his place at Megatron's side, but the Warlord barely reacted to the Seeker's presence, as if Thundercracker hadn't been on medical leave for orns. Everyone else pretended not to notice.

Skyfire's shift ended before Thundercracker’s, and he regretfully left the command center. He didn't like the idea of Thundercracker being in there without one of them, especially with Megatron nearby, but he couldn't stay there forever. Skywarp was waiting for him outside the door.

 "Did it go alright?" he asked.

Skyfire nodded. "Everyone seemed normal. No problems at all," he said. Skywarp visibly relaxed in relief. He was smiling as they started walking.

"Rumble mentioned seeing you earlier," Skywarp said as they walked. "Said you looked pretty tired. 'S everything going alright?"

Skyfire tried to smile at him. "It's fine, just busy. Hook keeps us on our toes in the med-bay," he said. "The ship has been quiet lately, by the way. It's not like the two of you. Should I be afraid you're plotting something big right now?"

Skywarp shrugged. "Nah, not this time. Soundwave's got them on a tight leash right now, which kinda sucks. They're not supposed to make any mischief in case it gets too much attention."

Skyfire nodded, more disappointed than relieved. The duo's pranks could be tasteless, but they were never cruel and always lightened up the atmosphere. With the ship the way it was, they could all use some levity in their life.

He was relieved when they reached the Seekers' quarters and Skywarp keyed open their door. Skyfire spent almost all his free time in the Seekers' quarters, though it felt strange to be in the room without both Seeker's there. Thundercracker's absence was an almost physical presence, and it put them both on edge as they waited for the end of his shift. They only had a few breems left when Skywarp jerked from where he'd been sprawled across the berth, nearly falling to the floor.

"Skywarp?" Skyfire asked, standing up. "What happened?"

"It's TC," he said. "Something's wrong." At Skyfire's look of horror, he quickly elaborated. "He's not hurt! Not at all! He's just… worried about something. Like, really worried."

Skyfire nodded, only faintly reassured. "Do you think he's in danger?" he asked.

Skywarp shook his head. "No. At least, not right now. He's coming back here."

"But his shift doesn't end for another-"

"I know."

Skyfire offlined his vocalizer. Silently, they both waited for Thundercracker to return. Within a few breems, the door opened, and Thundercracker walked in. Skywarp sprang to his feet.

"Are you alright?" he asked, inspecting his Trinemate for damage. "What the slag was that!"

Thundercracker nudged him away and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. "I'm fine," he said. "Megatron and I had a… discussion today."

If possible, Skywarp seemed even more frantic as he hovered. "What'd he say? What'd he do?"

Skyfire stepped closer and, avoiding Skywarp's frantic movements, laid a hand on Thundercracker's shoulder, stroking the metal there. Thundercracker sighed and leaned into the contact, but he didn't relax.

Thundercracker twisted so he could look Skyfire in the optics. "It was about you," he said. "Megatron has… remembered your lack of participation in the raids. He ordered me to bring you to the next battle."

Skyfire's processer blanked. "What?" he breathed. "I can't- I don't know how to be a soldier. What does he want me to do?"

Thundercracker placed his hand over Skyfire's, comforting him instead. "Megatron doesn't care. He just wants you there, doing something, or there will be consequences. For all of us."

Skywarp cursed, loudly and vividly. "That slagger!" he shouted. "We had an agreement! He wasn't supposed to-"

"Enough, Skywarp!" Thundercracker said, cutting him off. "It's one raid. We'll figure it out, and I'll find a way to distract Megatron next time."

Skywarp looked mutinous, but he nodded. He took several deep breaths until his wings relaxed from their high, angry angle. "Sorry," he said. I'm good." He turned to Skyfire and, haltingly, said, "Are you alright?"

Skyfire nodded. His knees felt weak, and he sank gratefully into one of the empty chairs. "Fine," he said. "Just... fine." His voice wavered though, and the lie was obvious. He stayed with them the rest of the night, though he didn't sleep. Neither did they.

-/-

The next raid has half an orn away. Skyfire didn't know what to do.

He spent the cycles in an anxious haze. The Seekers only left his side for shift, and even then they timed it so one was always with him. After the shock wore off, Skyfire spent every free moment at the firing range or training rooms. He hadn't been nervous around a blaster in vorns, but now his hands trembled as he wrapped them around the handle.

He fired several rounds into a target. His first shot almost missed it altogether. Skyfire stopped, took a deep breath, and forced his hands to still. His next shots were closer.

Thundercracker watched as he practiced. "It'll be alright," he said. "You've trained for this."

Skyfire shot another round before answering. His aim was almost back to normal. "Yes, but I didn't think I'd actually use it," he said.

Being in the Ark's boarding party had been the closest he'd ever come to real combat. Even then he'd been in the back, where he'd been more or less protected by the closer lines and had mostly just fired random shots at the Autobots. Raids were different. Less organized. They almost always dissolved into one-vs-one combat, and Skyfire... couldn't. He _couldn't_.

Thundercracker stepped up beside him, and Skyfire almost flinched when he laid a reassuring hand on his arm. "Skywarp and I will be right there with you," he said. "We'll keep you safe. I promise."

Skyfire nodded. The motion was jerky and uncoordinated, and his vocalizer refused to function. He wasn't sure what to do, so he lifted his rifle higher and kept firing. Thundercracker gave him room to practice, though he stayed close.

Skyfire lost himself in the repetitive motions of the firing range. He ignored his chronometer as it counted down the cycles, as if ignoring the time would make it somehow less real.

Sometime later, Thundercracker spoke again. His voice was so quiet Skyfire barely registered it over the sound of blaster fire.

"This shouldn't have happened," he said. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop it."

Skyfire paused long enough to reach back and reassure Thundercracker. "You did everything you could," he said. "It's alright."

It wasn't, but he didn't blame Thundercracker for it. Skyfire aimed at the next target, pulled the trigger, and felt the blaster fizzle in his hand. He'd exhausted the fuel cell. Skyfire flipped the spent cell out to recharge and grabbed another, but Thundercracker stopped him before he could pop it in.

"That's enough," he said. "Let's call it a night."

"I need to-"

"You've been here for cycles already, Skyfire," he said. "You're not going to get better in the next half orn. Get some rest. You'll feel better."

Thundercracker pulled the blaster from his hand, and Skyfire let him. His palms ached where they'd been clenched around the weapon, and he painfully uncurled his fingers again. He followed Thundercracker back to their quarters, and Skyfire slept.

-/-

The day of the next raid came. Skyfire wasn't ready. Skywarp and Thundercracker said he was, and that the raid would be straightforward, and they'd shield him from the fighting as much as possible, but Skyfire found the reassurances hollow. The Seekers seemed just as nervous as him; they just hid it better. They weren't the only ones with reservations either.

The Second Trine-the Coneheads-confronted Thundercracker during the final preparations. They didn't bother keeping their voices down.

"What the slag are we supposed to do with a Shuttle?" Thrust shouted. "He's practically a noncombatant too! He'll just slow us down, and all of us will get the blame for it!"

Thrust had chosen a time when Skywarp was on the other side of the room, and the three Coneheads cornered Thundercracker together. They stood just a bit too close, had wings raised slightly too high, for talking to their Commander. It was too subtle to call them out on, but they'd already garnered some disapproving looks for it. A few mecha stopped what they were doing to watch, obviously hoping for a fight.

Instead of reacting, Thundercracker ignored Thrust's aggressive display altogether; his wings didn't even twitch. "I'm handling it," he said.

Thrust took another step forward. His Trinemates, Ramjet and Dirge, followed suit. "I don't think you are," he said.

"The order came directly from Megatron. You're welcome to bring your concern to him, if you feel so strongly about it."

Thrust blanched. He tried to bluster his way through for another klik before Thundercracker wordlessly pushed past him. The Coneheads let him through and, grumbling, returned to their job.

As the rest of the soldiers made their final preparations, Skyfire sat on the edge of the room and tried to stay out of the way. He had his best blaster in his subspace, and he resisted the urge to take it out and clean it again. Instead, he watched as Thundercracker and Skywarp coordinated the other flyers. He perked up when Thundercracker turned towards him.

"Skyfire, a word?" Thundercracker said, pulling him to the side. "I have some special orders for you. The Organics are storing some rare chemicals in the same facility that the Constructicons have been asking for. I've assigned you to collect those materials while the rest of our forces are gathering energon."

"Meaning I'll be away from the main fighting."

A smile dance on the edge of his lips before Thundercracker suppressed it again. "I'm sure you're disappointed to not be included in the main force, but this is an important mission. I trust you'll give it your full attention."

Skyfire nodded, repressing his own smile. "I won't let you down."

Thundercracker gave him a short, sharp nod and dismissed him. He returned to the rest of the soldiers to finish preparations. Skyfire watched him go. It wasn't a perfect solution. Wasn't even close. It was still miles better than pretending he was a regular soldier. He felt marginally better as the preparations finished and they prepared to leave.

-/-

The organic structure was a small, stunted building surrounded by rows of warehouses and machinery. It was some sort of research and development station that worked with high-energy materials which, of course, had caught the Decepticon's attention. Alarms were already blaring when they arrived, and the organics streamed away from the building.

Most of the Decepticons broke off towards the main building and the energy hidden within. A tank frame blasted a hole in the wall, and soon the whole area was swarming with Decepticons carrying storage cubes. With a nod to Thundercracker, Skyfire broke away towards the warehouses. He'd barely reached the building before a transmission crackled over his 'comm.

:The Autobots have started to move,: Thundercracker said. :Be careful.:

Skyfire took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Then he ducked inside the warehouse. It was small, like all the organics' structures, and the ceiling scraped against his head. Long stacks of chemicals surrounded him. His rifle was a heavy weight in his subspace, but it was too long to safely take out in such small quarters.

Skyfire started with the containers closest to the entrance. The faint scent of chemicals permeated the air, barely concentrated enough for his scanners to pick up, and he made his way slowly across the row. Most were simple compounds, though a handful of more unstable substances were mixed in. Skyfire made a note to avoid knocking anything over.

He paused as jet engines roared overhead. If he focused, he could make out the clatter of weaponry already, and it was getting louder. Skyfire moved quicker. He tested a few of the containers that grabbed his attention, but none of them were quite right. He kept looking. Even if this wasn't an 'exciting' mission and thus unlikely to garner Megatron's attention, he didn't want to risk coming back empty handed. Regardless, he hoped Megatron would call the retreat soon.

Skyfire froze as something crashed nearby. Deep voices shouted, then one of the far walls seemed to explode inward. A blur of red and white—Autobot colors—collided with one of the stacks of chemicals. They came tumbling down around him, half-burying the mech in a spray of metal canisters. Several containers shattered on impact, leaving the mech in a growing puddle of fluid. A loud groan drifted away from the pile of liquid and metal.

The mech pushed himself upright with a muffled curse. He was a large grounder, some sort of Frontliner. The Autobot symbol was bright on his chest, and his weapons were still charged. His attention was focused outside, where the rest of the battle raged.

Back in his corner of the warehouse, Skyfire didn't dare make a sound. He offlined his cooling system, locked his joints, and silenced every system. Irrationally, he hoped that, maybe, if he didn't draw attention to himself, the Autobot wouldn't notice him.

He opened a private 'Comm channel. :Thundercracker?: he sent :I think I'm in trouble.:

Thundercracker responded immediately. :Where are you?:

:Warehouse on the left:

Thundercracker cursed, and Skyfire vaguely heard blaster fire over the line. :The Autobots have us pinned right now. I'll be there as soon as I can.: Another round of blaster fire. When he continued, his voice wavered slightly. :Be careful, Skyfire.:

He closed the 'comm channel, unable to risk the distraction to either of them. Something cold and unpleasantly thick touched the bottom of Skyfire foot, leaking through the seams of his plating. He flinched away and looked down to find that the puddle of chemicals had spread across the flooring. More dripped from the cracked containers. Another canister burst with a loud pop as the Autobot moved towards the new hole in the wall. He looked ready to run back out and rejoin the battle, and Skyfire felt the barest trickle of hope that he might avoid a confrontation. Then the Autobot glanced back—just a brief flicker of his optics. Their optics met.

Blue optics brightened in surprise. The blaster swung towards him. Skyfire flinched and took a half step backwards. His foot splashed against the fluid.

Skyfire froze. "Don't shoot!" he shouted. The Autobot, surprisingly, hesitated. Skyfire rushed to keep speaking, trying to ignore the weapon pointed at him. "It's the chemicals. A stray shot could set them off, and I don't know how powerful the explosion would be."

The grounder stared at him suspiciously, but his optics darted towards the puddle under their feet. Good. Any mech with a half-functioning processer would know the danger of igniting an unknown mix of chemicals. If they could just get out of the warehouse, then he would be… well, not out of danger, but at least facing better options. He might even have enough time for Thundercracker to arrive.

Before Skyfire could say anything else, he was interrupted by the sound of another mech landing nearby. It was another Decepticon, likely the one who'd sent the Autobot through the wall in the first place. The Autobot jerked at the sound, head turning to face the new threat. His hand lurched as well and, by accident or intent, his fingers pressed the trigger.

Skyfire dove to the side. He was almost fast enough. The bolt ricocheted off the thick plating of his shoulder, leaving a long, painful burn. He crashed into another storage rack, drenching his other side in fluid.

The redirected energy bolt collided with the wall, dispersing the remaining energy in one long pulse. As he watched, trails of energy leapt onto the chemicals coating the floor and his side. Then the spark took, and fire blazed across the room. At first, Skyfire's sensors registered a strange heat, almost a physical pressure, pushing on his arm. Error messages raced across his processor as the fire snuck through the gaps in his armor. Skyfire shouted, in surprise more than pain, and stumbled away, trying to escape the flames.

Then the flames reached a holding rack, snaking up the spatters of fluid on the metal rungs. The impressive explosion that resulted physically lifted Skyfire off the ground and sent him crashing through the wall behind him. He had enough time to see the overcast sky above him and feel the almost painfully cool air before his processor blacked out

-/-

When Skyfire onlined, he couldn't move.

He frowned in confusion, tugging gently on his arms. Something heavy was holding them in place. His entire frame, actually, He felt like that should worry him, but his mind felt strangely disconnected from his frame. His processer was slow, and his thoughts scattered whenever he tried to organize them into something coherent. He wondered vaguely if he'd been injured. Something felt off though, and Skyfire shifted restlessly as he tried to force his uncooperative processer to work. Then his memory clicked into place.

Megatron's orders. The warehouse and the unstable chemicals housed within it. The explosion. He hadn't even gotten the chemical. Megatron was going to be furious.

Skyfire hesitantly accessed the feed for the arm that had taken the bulk of the blast, expecting to find reports detailing severe damage. When a mecha displeased him, Megatron often started their punishment by refusing to let Hook treat them. To his surprise, the reports he scrolled through indicated the limb had been almost completely repaired. Strange.

Skyfire onlined his optics. His first instinct was to look for Skywarp or Thundercracker, but they weren't there. Nobody was—the room was empty. It was also unfamiliar. The walls were a strange, painfully intense shade of orange. The room was some sort of med-bay, with the faint, underlying scents of sterilized metal and old energon, but he'd never seen any of it before in his life. Worry curled in his spark, and he pressed it down. He tried to hail Thundercracker on the ‘comms and got only static. His communications array had been locked down.

The worry worsened, mixing with the first threads of true fear. He pulled at the restraints again, harder this time. They didn’t move. A smear of red caught his optics. Etched into the side of a machine was an Autobot symbol. Skyfire stopped breathing.

Slag.

_Slag_.

For almost a full breem, panic overwhelmed him. He'd spent the last megavorns hearing horror stories of what happened to low-ranked mecha when the Autobots got their hands on them. He jerked against the restraints holding him down, pulling with his full strength. It was useless—his limbs reacted sluggishly to his commands, and the bindings pinning him to the berth didn't give an inch.

The door hissed open, and Skyfire stilled. A red and white mech strode through. The inlaid glyphs for an Iacon-certified medic stood out against his white chassis, elegantly detailed as befitting only the most highly regarded medics.

"You're awake," the medic—Ratchet, Skyfire remembered, that was his designation—stated.

Skyfire didn't answer. He cast his processer back, trying to remember every scrap of information he'd ever heard about the Autobot medic. Ratchet had been the Chief Medical Officer since shortly after the new Prime came into power, and he'd been a famous Iaconian surgeon even before the war. Skyfire had heard dozens of rumors about the mech over the vorns, none of them pleasant. Most of them revolved around his infamously violent temper and how even his own mecha were afraid of him.

Ratchet gave him a quick once over and huffed before turning towards a counter. He picked up a standard microwielder, the same kind Skyfire had used thousands of time for delicate repairs. Ratchet pulled up a chair beside Skyfire's berth, where he towered over Skyfire's inclined frame.

"I assume you know what's going to happen?" the Autobot said as he popped open a panel on the Shuttle's arm. Skyfire jerked at the unfamiliar touch, but the restraints didn’t allow him to move fra.

Ratchet glared at him. "Don't move," he scolded. "You'll mess up the repairs, and I'm not going to redo them." Ratchet turned back to the open panel. "So. Soon as I give the all-clear, you'll be sent to the brig. Megatron will be notified. Either he negotiates for your return, or you'll have plenty of time to get used to being stuck in a cell."

Skyfire barely felt the microwielder's presence as Ratchet rooted around inside his arm. He could feel the distinct prickle of heat and a vague itch radiating from the area, but there was no pain. Either the mech was ridiculously precise or he was using one Pit of a sensor-numbing program.

The door hissed open again behind them. Skyfire didn't want to take his optics off the medic, but he glanced over to see who was entering. He almost wished he hadn't. He'd never seen the mech in person before, but Skyfire recognized the deceptively small black and white frame instantly.

If Ratchet was infamous, then Jazz was legendary.

As the head of Autobot Special Ops, he was universally regarded as one of the most dangerous Autobots. The mech was behind some of the most destructive sabotage of the entire war. Even if only half of the rumors were accurate, it was enough to firmly place the mech as someone you did not want to stumble across. Particularly unarmed and restrained.

A lighthearted tune drifted from the hallway as Jazz entered. He moved with a smooth, easy gait that mixed the fluidity of a performer and the trained motion of a fighter. His mouth curved into a cheerful grin, and his visor was a bright, relaxed blue. Jazz pulled up a chair and lounged against it, far too close to Skyfire for comfort.

The mech was good. Skyfire could almost believe he was as carefree as he seemed.

Jazz watched the medic work for a couple kliks before turning his gaze towards him. Jazz met his optics for a few moments, staring until Skyfire was forced to glance away.

"And here I thought we'd figured out all the 'Cons on Earth by now," Jazz drawled slowly, still staring. "Any reason ya ain't been involved in any of the other schemes Megatron's been trying ta pull off?"

Skyfire remained silent.

Jazz sighed theatrically and slouched further down into the chair. "Well, might as well get the formalities outta the way," he said. "What's yer designation?"

Skyfire briefly considered ignoring the question, but… There really wasn't anything special about his designation. Maybe they could turn up his years at the Iacon Academy or his disastrous encounter with the Iaconian Enforcers. Aside from his connection with Thundercracker, though, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about his time as a Decepticon.

"Skyfire," he answered quietly.

He didn't see any flicker of recognition on the mech's face, though he knew that didn't really mean anything. Not with a mech like Jazz.

"Rank?"

"Scientist and assistant medic," Skyfire said quietly.

Jazz tilted his head, humming a few notes to himself. "A non-combatant then? Not really Meg's style." He leaned forward, bringing his face slightly closer. "So. Mind tellin' me what a non-combatant was doin' in the middle of one a Megatron's raids?"

That was a loaded question, and one without any good answer. Conversations like that could be as dangerous as any physical fight, and Skyfire had always been slag at word games. Starscream had been the one who knew how to turn words into weapons. He could have cut a mech to pieces without touching him or trick a mech into giving up information without even realizing it. Skyfire was just happy when he could avoid embarrassing himself.

"I would prefer not to say," he said instead.

Jazz actually laughed at that. A loud, full bodied thing that shook his frame and made his visor brighten with mirth. "Of course ya would. An' so polite 'bout it too. Can ya at least tell me why Megs bothered bringing some no-name Medic on the Nemesis?"

Skyfire stayed silent. Jazz offered him another crooked grin before standing up with a graceful flourish. He left Ratchet with a brief nod, which was ignored, and a brush against his shoulder. Some of the tension keeping Skyfire stiff eased with the distance.

"I'll leave ya to it, then," Jazz said. He then waltzed out of the room the same way he'd entered it, leaving Skyfire alone with Ratchet once again.

Skyfire watched him go, feeling rather… perplexed. That… wasn't what he would have expected from the famous Saboteur. No threats, no overt coercion, and then he'd just left. Was Skyfire… just that unimportant? Was Jazz playing some kind of mind game? And why the slag had they repaired him so thoroughly?

Skyfire didn't like not knowing. It left him off-balance, unsure of what was going to happen to him and unable to prepare for it. After another breem, Ratchet subspaced the microwielder and started replacing the plating he'd removed. As he was finishing, his hand brushed against one of the medical engravings on Skyfire's armor. 

"I'm putting you back into stasis until I know whether the repairs will hold," Ratchet said. "Next time you wake, you'll be heading to the brig."

Skyfire tensed as the mech reached over and flipped open his medical interface port. He attached a datapad, letting the coding for medical stasis bleed into Skyfire's programming. Skyfire felt his systems reacting, cycling down as the new commands activated. He didn't try to resist. The world fell away until only his thoughts were left, and then even they disappeared.

~.*.~

 


	13. Autobot Hospitality

Skyfire stared through the bars at his current guard. He was a bulky mech—some sort of emergency vehicle?—that filled the large chair he was sitting on. He was polishing an impressively large blaster, more a cannon than a gun, with more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. He was also the most aggravating mech Skyfire had been forced to interact with since the time Rumble and Frenzy decided to speak only in rhymes.

“It’s just a datapad,” Skyfire explained yet again. “I don’t care what’s on it; it can even be blank, if you prefer.”

The mech didn’t twitch. “Red Alert already said no. Too much’ve a security risk,” he said.

Skyfire forced back the urge to give into a very juvenile temper tantrum. “Data pads can be locked against any tampering or unauthorized use. So long as you include minimal security features, it would be impossible for me to abuse the privilege.”

The Autobot was unmoved. “Not risking it.”

Skyfire groaned and slumped back against the berth. He knew it was foolish to antagonize the guards, but it was tempting to keep arguing. So very, very tempting. For the first orn, he’d been a model prisoner. He hadn’t interacted with the guards. He’d ignored every movement and glance and grumbled complaint about guard duty and given them no excuse for retaliation.

He’d been out of his mind with boredom within a cycle.

Skyfire wasn’t used to inactivity. Not as a scientist or a soldier. Even as an explorer, traveling through the vacuum between stars, he’d had projects to focus on and Starscream by his side. He didn’t know how to deal with silence, or isolation, or the way it clawed at his processer cycle after cycle.

Skyfire drummed his fingers along the side of the berth, wishing for a datapad more than anything. He’d tried running through schematics or project ideas, but, without anything to record them on, his thoughts chased themselves in endless circles. He wasn’t quite at the point where he wanted anything to happen—he was well aware of what that ‘anything’ would likely entail—but the uncertainty grated on him.

Of course, when the door slid open and a familiar black and white Polyhexian sauntered through, Skyfire immediately regretted the feeling, as if a mere thought had been enough to summon the mech.

Jazz entered the room with a smile and a bounce in his step. He sent Skyfire a jaunty little wave, which was ignored, then ducked over to the guard.  The other Autobot seemed oddly happy at having his Commanding Officer interrupt his duty shift. They greeted each other and exchanged pleasantries. Jazz said something else, low enough that Skyfire couldn’t understand, before straightening and thumping the larger mech on his back. The Guard stood.

“I got it covered. Say hi to Red for me!” Jazz said. He ushered the other Autobot out the door, which closed behind him with a final, echoing click.

Then it was just him and Jazz.

Jazz didn’t sit at the newly vacated seat. Instead, he walked around the other side of the table. He lounged against the metal, just barely out of reach and far too close for comfort.

“How’s it going, m’mech? Enjoying the accommodations?” he asked.

Skyfire raised an eyebrow at the friendly tone. “I’m afraid the service has been rather lacking,” he said dryly. “You may want to work on that.”

He tensed as the words left his vocalizer, worried Jazz might take offense, but the mech only laughed.

 “Funny mech,” he said. “I’m hurt. These’re our finest cells on the ship. An’ I keep sending ya mecha to keep ya company too.”

Skyfire’s lips twitched in what was almost a smile—Jazz was certainly charming—but it quickly faded.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

Jazz spread his arms out, palms upraised as if to seem harmless. “Can’t a mech visit his guest?”

“Prisoner,” Skyfire corrected. “Not guest.”

Jazz acknowledged the point with a wry smile and a tip of his head. The table creaked as he leaned more heavily against it. “Not in the mood for games, eh?” he said. “Shame. That was always my favorite part”

He waited for a response, and continued when Skyfire didn’t give him one.

“I gotta question for ya,” Jazz said. “’Bout dear old Megsie. Y’see, he’s been ignorin’ our calls lately, an’ I was wonderin’ whether ya knew anything ‘bout that.”

Skyfire froze. “What?”

Jazz shrugged, completely unconcerned. “I don’t know if ya got on his bad side or what, but Megatron ain’t dealin’. I’d almost say he’s actin’ like there ain’t even a deal ta be made. Strange, doncha think?”

Skyfire breathed deeply, trying to contain the panic welling in his chest. So. Megatron wasn’t negotiating for his release, and Thundercracker apparently hadn’t been able to change his decision. He’d half expected it, but... slag. _Slag._

“Well?” Jazz asked, breaking the increasingly awkward silence. “Any thoughts?”

Skyfire’s lips lifted in what was almost a smile, though there was no humor in it. “I’m afraid Megatron has never put much stock in the value of civilian frames. Seeing as I don’t often participate in battles, he may have overlooked my absence.”

Or, he would have without Thundercracker. The Seeker would have made a fuss about his capture. Apparently that had failed. Primus, he hoped he and Skywarp were alright. That they hadn’t been damaged in the fighting or borne the brunt of Megatron’s temper again.

Skyfire rubbed at his chest, soothing the light ache that had taken up residence. He only realized the mistake when Jazz’s optics followed the motion.

“Everythin’ alright?” he asked.

Skyfire knotted his hands together in his lap. “Fine,” he said. “A nervous habit, that’s all.”

He let the silence drag on, hoping Jazz would leave. He didn’t.

"Well then," Jazz said, drawing the syllables out as he leaned forward. “Seein’ as we’ll be stuck together for a while longer, how’s about we get ta know each other a mite better?” He paused, visor flicking across Skyfire’s frame. "Ya ain't exactly the usual kinda 'Con we see. 'S always strange ta see an Iacon mech wearing Buckethead's insignia."

Skyfire struggled not to react. His old city remained a touchy subject. Iacon had been home to some of his happiest memories, and some of his worst. He spoke before he had a chance to consider the consequences.

"You're from Polyhex, correct?" Jazz inclined his head, and Skyfire continued. "Then you should know better than most how our city of activation does not define us."

At the beginning of the war, Polyhex had been one of the more neutral cities. A mix of civilian and war frames, the city had been known for its diversity and vast criminal underbelly. Officially, it had sided with the Decepticon several vorns into the war. Most of its citizens had chosen the Decepticon sigil over the Autobot’s. Jazz was one of few known Polyhexians to make it far in the Autobots ranks.

Jazz spread out his arms with a wry grin. "Ya got me there, mech," he chuckled. "Would ya be willin' ta help satisfy my curiosity then? I know what made me join the Prime 'stead a the 'Cons, but I'd be interested in hearin' why a Iacon mech would choose the opposite."

"I would prefer not to. It was a… personal decision."

Jazz sighed, looking distinctly disappointed "As ya wish," he said.

Skyfire waited for Jazz to ask another question—something about the Decepticons, perhaps—but this time he seemed content to let the conversation lapse. Jazz pulled out his own datapad—Skyfire tried very hard not to be envious—and sat down properly on his seat. Skyfire gratefully retreated further into his cell and resumed staring blankly at the wall. Boredom set in again immediately, despite Jazz’s looming presence. A couple breems in, he found himself tempted to ask Jazz about a datapad. Skyfire quickly quashed the impulse.

When the shift change came, Skyfire was relieved to hear the familiar hiss of the door sliding open. He was less pleased by the influx of noise that followed. He started at the volume, unused to noise, and caught sight of his newest guard.

Grey doorwings hung from his back, marking him as a Praxian. They fluttered behind him, and Skyfire recognized hints of a Seeker's wing language in the sensor panels. The Autobot’s plating was a simple grey with red accents and he was of average height, likely with a simple car alt mode to match.

The new Autobot bounced straight Jazz, calling out a cheerful greeting and chattering about some argument in the rec-room. After determining it was a minor, everyday scuffle—something about a lost bet—Skyfire tuned the conversation out. He had little interest in Autobot gossip.

Then Jazz left, and the new mech… kept talking. His words flowed aimlessly out of his vocalizer, bouncing freely from subject to subject. They didn’t seem to be aimed at Skyfire, and he didn’t wait for a reply. Skyfire was reluctantly interested. He perked up when the Praxian mentioned a public relations event with the natives. He'd almost forgotten how the Autobots were allied with the organics. Apparently a minibot had accidentally insulted a group, which had turned into quite the scandal. Skyfire tried to keep quiet, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Do you have much interaction with the organics?" he asked.

Skyfire half expected the Praxian to clam up at the interruption. Get suspicious, perhaps. Instead, the Praxian looked at him in surprise before breaking out into a broad grin.

"Yep!" he said. "Sparkplug and Spike, they're two of the natives, and they hang around the Ark all the time. Most of us had to recalibrate our sensors to make sure we pay enough attention to our feet so we don't accidentally squish them or anything. That would be  _terrible_. Everyone would freak out—it's hard enough to get them to trust us as it is, with the damage the fights cause—and Optimus would be _furious_. They’re so small too, we could really hurt them without realizing it!"

"What are they like?"

The Autobot fell silent, head tilted in thought. "Strange," he answered. "They're a lot like us in a buncha ways—kinda creepy actually. They even look like us, 'cept they're all soft and squishy and they  _leak,_ which is pretty gross. And they're smart too. Not like us 'cause they don't have the processing power for it, but they’ve so creative ‘bout everything that it doesn’t really matter. 'Course, the language takes a while to get used to—it's so  _general,_  not like ours at all—but it works well enough. There was this one time when Sparkplug…"

He kept talking, occasionally backtracking or veering off on brief tangents, but he found his way back eventually The words flowed out of his vocalizer in a constant stream of thought, and Skyfire drank it all in like a sponge. It had been millennia since he’d last indulged his interest in xenobiology, and he’d missed it. Bluestreak wasn’t a scientist, but he was observant, which was almost as good. In any case, it made the Praxian the most interesting thing to happen since he’d arrived, and Skyfire gratefully immersed himself in the distraction. He was disappointed when the Praxian’s shift ended.

-/-

Before Thundercracker became the Air Commander, Skyfire had often been assigned to the more unsavory medical tasks. For the most part, he hadn’t minded. The least wanted tasks were generally the most tedious, and nothing, not maintenance or inventory or sterilizing, could compare to his time as an explorer. His patience for menial tasks was unlimited.

One task, though, he’d hated. The bases always had cells and prisoners to fill them. Interrogation rooms. Medics were called upon infrequently, usually when a prisoner was nearing death ahead of schedule.

Skyfire had _hated_ that duty. He’d rarely been assigned to it, but the memories stuck with him. Skyfire’s cell was larger than the ones the Decepticons used, but otherwise it was almost exactly the same. The technology for energon cells had been perfected during the Golden Age, and it would have been a waste of time and resources to engineer any major changes. Spec-Ops and high risk prisoners had their own, specialized cells, of course, but standard ones hadn’t changed in millennia.

If he listened closely, Skyfire could hear the faint hum of charged wires in the wall behind him. The patch of metal was slightly warmer than the rest, affected by the machinery that ran near the surface. Most of the current for the bars ran through there, hidden behind the thickly armored wall. The slight sound and warmth was oddly soothing, especially against the lingering ache in his side.

He heard when the Guard shift changed, but he didn’t look up until he heard footsteps approaching the door. It was Ironhide, a mech he’d seen a handful of times. Usually when they needed an Autobot large enough to escort him, across the ship.

“Get up,” Ironhide said. “Ratchet needs to check the repairs. Make sure you’re not gonna keel over on us.”

Skyfire stood. He patiently obeyed Ironhide’s commands as he cuffed him properly and deactivated the bars. After so long it felt good to stretch his legs; to walk instead of shuffle, always aware of how close the walls were and how little space he had.

They were just reaching a more populated section when their walk was interrupted. A blur of red and white sprinted out of a nearby hallway. He almost collided with Ironhide, lost his balance, and skidded to a rather ungraceful stop. Ironhide cursed and took a protective step between Skyfire and the new arrival, but the Shuttle could see around him easily enough. A pair of wide wings caught his attention.

He was… a Jet? Not a Seeker: the wings weren't quite right and frame too angular. His wings were angled downward instead of out, and the nose of his jet mode jutted up behind his helm. The Jet was staring intently at Skyfire's wings with something that looked strangely like awe, as if he wasn't used to seeing other flyers around. His armor shined in the light, unmarred by scars, and his movements were slightly _off_ , like he wasn’t quite comfortable in his plating.

He was one of the younglings!

Skyfire had heard about the Autobot’s new gestalt. Thundercracker had ranted for  _cycles_ about being forced to go up against the newly sparked mecha—at Megatron for insisting they face the younglings as they would any other mecha and at both leaders for being cruel or desperate enough to send new sparks to the battlefield. Both Seekers did their best not to cause any true damage to the younglings. He'd seen hints of the same from several other Decepticons—missed shots, non-lethal damage, and other small malfunctions that always seemed to happen around the flyers. The Autobots had done the same when faced with the Stunticons. Younglings were precious, especially after the war, and there was something inherently wrong about having to fight one.

"Fireflight." Ironhide said, crossing his arms. "You an’ yer brothers are supposed ta be runnin' drills out in the desert right now. What are ya doin' here?"

Fireflight stepped backwards, wings fluttering at the harsh tone. He had something in his hands—an odd twist of material that shone in the light—and he held it up in front of him like a shield.

"We were. Are, I mean. My brothers are still out there. I just…" He thrust the object up higher, glancing up at the warrior beseechingly. "I found this when we were flying. It was so pretty and cool—it has  _crystals_ in it, see?—and Silverbolt said I could take it back to our quarters. It could have broken if I just stuck it in my subspace."

Fireflight grew steadily more nervous under Ironhide's silent, unimpressed stare. He eventually ran out of words and stood there awkwardly, hunched in on himself as if waiting for a punishment. Ironhide sighed, his annoyance deflating at the rather depressing sight. He gave the flyer a gruff pat on his shoulder before nudging him towards a nearby hallway.

"Get goin'."

Fireflight took off, running past them towards where he assumed the mech's quarters were. The object was still cradled carefully in his hands, and it sent patterns of reflected light dancing across the walls. He glanced back at Skyfire one last time before he disappeared, but Ironhide's dour presence prevented him from hesitating any longer. Ironhide caught him staring after the youngling and pushed him forward.

"Keep movin'," he grunted.

With one last, lingering glance, Skyfire obeyed. Thoughts of the young flyer slipped away as they neared the med-bay doors. The med-bay doors looked just as he remembered them, and he only hesitated in the entranceway for a moment before taking the first step inside.

-/-

Ratchet didn't even look up when the door slid open. He was hunched over a desk on the far side of the room, muttering to himself as he worked on a disassembled communications array.

"Sit," he grunted, absentmindedly waving a hand towards a row of berths by the far wall.

Ironhide guided him towards the medical berths, and Skyfire lay down without protest. He let Ironhide adjust the stasis cuffs until Skyfire was firmly secured to the berth. He did briefly test the bindings, but the metal was thick and well-enforced. He wouldn't be able to break them.

Ratchet continued tinkering with the device for another breem, cutting out melted lumps of metal and wielding new wiring. Eventually, he placed the electroblade down on the desk and stood, stretching the joints of his hands with a muffled groan. Ratchet turned and ambled closer. He tried to shoo Ironhide out of his way once he reached the berth, but the Officer shifted over a few steps and continued looming over them both. Ratchet wasn't amused.

"Ironhide," he started, crossing his arms and widening his stance. "You know I hate healthy mecha hovering around my med-bay while I work."

Ironhide matched Ratchet movement for movement, using his superior height to his advantage. "Ya know it's my job ta make sure the 'Con doesn't try ta—"

A small scrap of metal clanged off Ironhide's head, silencing him. Ratchet held up another, larger piece threateningly. " _Out_ ," he ordered. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself against an unarmed,  _restrained_ mech."

For a moment, it seemed as if Ironhide would keep arguing. Skyfire admired his bravery; it was always risky to pick a fight with your base's chief medic. The standoff didn't last for long. Ironhide looked away with a loud curse.

" _Fine,_ ya stubborn glitch. I'll be outside the door. Holler if he tries somethin'."

With another glare, Ironhide stomped towards the door, hitting the keypad with more force than was strictly necessary. As soon as the med-bay doors closed again, Ratchet turned back to him.  

“I’ll have to remove your outer plating to check the repairs,” he said. “Have you felt any pain? And don’t lie. I hate it when mecha try to act tough. Means more work when it comes back and bites ‘em in the aft.”

“There’s some soreness, but nothing worse,” Skyfire said truthfully. The repairs had been very well done, far more so than the slapstick job he would have expected.

Ratchet grunted and started loosening the plating across Skyfire’s side, where the worst of the damage had been. Skyfire tensed as the armor was removed, exposing his inner circuity to the open air, and flinched as Ratchet reached inside. Skyfire tried not to react, but it was difficult. He was used to performing his own repairs. Having someone else, especially a stranger, fiddling around with his frame instead was… disquieting.

Ratchet tisked and moved a bundle of fluid lines aside. "Hold still," he said, leaning forward for a better angle. "A few of the welds were knocked loose."

He took a microwielder out of his subspace and reached deeper into Skyfire's frame. A spark of pain echoed up his side as Ratchet began fixing the welds, but it was faint and quickly gone. Ratchet continued up his side, occasionally twisting or welding parts as he went. Most of the repairs had held well.

When Ratchet finished with Skyfire’s side, he replaced the plating and moved up to Skyfire’s arm and shoulder, paying particular attention to the joint. Ratchet was grumbling about some tangled wires when he paused mid-movement, optics flickering as he received a 'com transmission. His hand hung in the air, tool still clasped loosely in his fist, for almost a quarter breem until he jerked back into motion.

"Slag," he cursed, half to himself. He turned away, absentmindedly setting the microwielder on the berth, and moved towards the back end of the med-bay, where an array of tools was spread out. Skyfire remained on the berth, shoulder still exposed and feeling increasingly nervous.

"What’s going on?" he asked when it looked like the medic might have actually forgotten about him.

Ratchet didn’t even spare him a glance. "One of the patrols got into a skirmish. You're staying right there until I'm done with them."

Ah. Meaning he'd soon be in the same room as mecha fresh off the battlefield. That could end badly. At least Ratchet seemed capable of controlling his patients. He didn't seem the type to condone any kind of distraction while he worked, though it was possible Skyfire had misjudged him.

Ratchet grew increasingly irritable as he prepared another berth. He stalked around the room, gathering tools and prepping his workstation. When the med-bay doors opened and admitted another two Autobots, he snapped to attention.

"Oy, Ratchet!" the new mech called out, either ignoring or unaware of the medic’s foul mood. “How’s it goin’?”

Red and yellow. Red was immediately familiar; it would be hard to forget the mech who, a few orns previously, had stumbled into the warehouse and started the whole mess. With the yellow mech beside him, Skyfire recognized who he was: Sideswipe, one of the Twins.

Skyfire offlined his optics and gave in to frustration for a klik. Of course it was the Twins. Frontliners with a penchant for violence and a reputation for going after Seekers in particular. Skyfire had repaired Skywarp and Thundercracker after an encounter with them far too many times. Skyfire’s moment of self-pity passed, and he onlined his optics.

Sideswipe was injured. His leg was visibly sparking, unable to support his weight. Sunstreaker was half-carrying him, though Sideswipe didn't seem bothered by the indignity. Both mecha were marked by shallow cuts and dents, some deep enough to cause internal damage.

Sideswipe scanned the room, immediately focusing on Skyfire. His optics brightened in recognition, and he pointed. “Hey, I remember you!” he said. “You’re the mech from the warehouse. No hard feelings, right?”

Skyfire nodded reluctantly, not quite sure what to make of him and afraid of saying the wrong thing. He was saved from further attempts at small talk when Ratchet stomped over.

"The slag did you do this time?" Ratchet said.

Sideswipe smiled sheepishly. "Hey, it actually wasn’t our fault!" he said, waving his hand around to emphasize his point. "They're the ones that jumped  _us_! Just ask Blue if you don’t believe us!"

They reached the nearest medical berth, and Sideswipe hissed as he was set down. Ratchet was there immediately, hovering over Sideswipe with a scanner and a pain patch. Sunstreaker took up a post beside his brother's berth, leaning against a nearby wall with a dour expression. After Ratchet's argument with Ironhide, Skyfire was surprised that the medic allowed Sunstreaker to stand so close.  

"And who are 'they?'" Ratchet asked, yanking several shredded wires out of Sideswipe’s knee with one hand. He already had their replacements in the other.

Sideswipe shrugged, shifting to give Ratchet better access. "A handful of Seekers."

Ratchet froze before turning a fierce glare onto the frontliners. "Let me guess," he spat. "Jet judo?"

Sideswipe's guilty grin was his only answer.

Ratchet hissed furious static and barely restrained himself from hitting the frontliner. "Not another word," he growled. "Don't move, don't talk,  _nothing._ I don't want to hear a _thing_ from you until you've fixed whatever personality glitch makes you so slagging  _stupid._ "

Skyfire barely heard Ratchet's outburst. He'd stopped listening at the first mention of Seekers. Had he seen Skywarp and Thundercracker? Fought them? Slaggit, had the Twins damaged them? Some of their worst injuries had come from fighting the Frontliners, and Skyfire wasn’t there to repair them this time. From the look of Sideswipe's injuries, the Seekers had put up a Pit of a fight.  His leg had taken the worst of it, but plating all along his side was warped as if he'd been thrown against something, and the gouges in his armor looked suspiciously like claw marks.

To Sideswipe’s credit, he lasted almost an entire breem before breaking the silence. "Something's got the Seekers in a tizzy," he started casually, shifting uncomfortably as Ratchet started popping out some dents more forcefully than necessary. "Haven't seen them this worked up in  _vorns._ "

He was interrupted by a wrench slamming against the side of his head with a loud thud. Sideswipe broke off with a curse, rubbing the small dent and staring up at Ratchet with sad optics. Ratchet was decidedly unaffected.

"So you decided  _that_ was the perfect time to jump on top of them?" Sideswipe grinned, and Ratchet smacked him again. "Glitch!"

After that, Ratchet kept up a continuous stream of insults, some of them remarkably creative, with the occasional light whap on the head or arm for emphasis. Skyfire winced everytime a blow landed, but they were never harder than a hard smack. Loud and stinging, but not strong enough to actually cause damage. Ratchet’s hands on Sideswipe’s injuries remained gentle.

In less time than Skyfire expected, Ratchet finished patching up Sideswipe, gave Sunstreaker a quick patch, and tossed both twins out of his med-bay with a warning of explicit physical harm if he saw them again in the next orn. Ratchet turned back to Skyfire grumbling quietly about ungrateful, suicidal mecha.

“Show me your arm,” Ratchet grumbled. “I have an appointment in a quarter cycle, and I want to get this finished.”

The rest of the visit passed in silence. Ratchet finished with time to spare, replaced the plating on his arm, and Skyfire was escorted back to his cell. It seemed almost smaller after having left it. He sank into the berth, rubbing at his chest again. The deep ache was back. He offlined his optics and tried to ignore it.

~*.*~


	14. Broken Bonds and Unwise Decisions

It was dark when Skyfire felt the first stirrings of true pain from his spark. 

His chest _flared_ with spark-pain, knocking him out of recharge and into a full blown panic. He would have shouted his pain and surprise to the world, but his vocalizer fritzed and his yell collapsed into a static-ridden groan. 

His guard, a yellow minibot, looked up at the sound. "Everything alright?" He asked. 

Skyfire nodded. It took several tries and his voice crackled disturbingly, but he said, "'M fine. A memory purge, that's all." 

The mech kept staring until  Skyfire turned away. He lay back down, but he didn't stand a chance of returning to sleep. The sharp pain eventually ebbed away, leaving a deep, hollow ache in his chest. He curled around it, rubbing at the plating above his spark, but it didn't help. The frozen pain remained, curled around the edges of his spark. 

The attack had been minor; a warning more than anything. A full glitch would be worse. From the lingering pain of his spark, a full one was coming. Soon. His spark had been acting up since they'd arrived on the planet, but he'd hoped... Well. It didn't much matter anymore.   

Skyfire took a deep breath. Then another. His spark throbbed in time with his breath, and he shuddered. He had a time limit now. An orn, if he was lucky. The Autobots weren't stupid; if he was still here when the glitch hit, they'd figure it out. Demand answers. The thought was almost physically painful.  He hadn't even told Skywarp and Thundercracker about the glitches. The Autobots didn't have the right to something so intensely personal. Nobody did. 

Skyfire clenched his hands into fists to stop their trembling. He stood on legs that could barely hold his weight, and he sat down beside the wall he'd noticed earlier. Behind him, the generator thrummed. 

-/- 

The humming coming from the wall was getting louder. 

The sound was still quiet, muted by a thick layer of metal. Leaning directly against that wall, Skyfire could hear every tick and sigh of the system. In a way, the familiar electrical hum was comforting. It was also somewhat terrifying. 

This close to the control mechanism, accessing the system had been rather easy. Of course, the system commands and ship AI were protected behind commands worthy of the Autobot flagship, but that hadn't been what Skyfire was looking for. He only needed the wires. Most mecha didn't even think about them, let alone dedicate resources to protecting them. Most mecha weren't very creative. 

Activating another command, Skyfire felt the vibrations behind him increase as the energy in the wires reacted. He worked slowly, keeping his connection to the ship as small and unobtrusive as possible. He hid in the loose ends of the coding and the cracks in the firewalls. With a thought, he could redirect current from one spot, or push it towards another. He let most of it keep flowing forward, but fed a small, steady stream to the energy sink behind him. The trapped energy rolled behind him, building into a storm behind his back. 

He held it in place, forcing the current to run endless loops as it grew. He fed the cache slowly, careful not to divert too much at once. He waited until he thought he had enough, then added some more. Finally, when the energy was growing harder to control, Skyfire was forced to admit he had enough, and it was time to act. 

Just before he stood, Skyfire hesitated.  

He could get out of the cell, but there was an entire ship of Autobots between him and outside. There was an Autobot with a gun directly across from him and even if, by some miracle, he got past him, Skyfire had no idea how to navigate the hallways. It would take a half-dozen miracles just to get off the ship and even more to make it safely back to the Decepticons. 

Skyfire rubbed at his chest, feeling his spark throb beneath the armor. The pain, as if his spark were turning to ice, had worsened. He had to try. 

His current guard was a small red minibot, one of the more volatile mecha Skyfire had encountered. He was also a careless mech, prone to distraction and random fits of temper. More than once he'd left his blaster leaning out of reach and, though Skyfire could see where inbuilt weaponry was concealed under his armor, the Autobot never kept them charged. It was as good a chance as Skyfire was going to find. 

Skyfire steadied himself, checked the circuits one last time, and stood. It was harder to control the energy away from the wall, but he didn’t let it escape. The movement caught the Autobot's attention. He straightened out of a bored slouch, frowning as he took to his feet. 

"Whadda you want?" he asked. 

Skyfire didn't answer. His throat ran dry, and words deserted him. The minibot's face darkened, and he puffed out his armor threateningly. He stepped forward, blaster forgotten on the table. 

 "Oy, I'm talking to you!" he shouted, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. 

Skyfire kept his face blank, hiding his surprise. This would be… far easier than he had expected. He didn't have to say a single word, and the minibot was already thoroughly flustered. The minibot growled, taking another few steps closer to Skyfire and farther from his weapon. 

"If you think you can ignore me just 'cause you're ridiculously fragging huge…" he blustered. Skyfire tuned out the rest of his words as he started into a full-blown rant, gesturing wildly. His processer was clear and razor-sharp from anticipation, and his frame buzzed with excess energy. He just needed a bit more, a bit closer… 

The minibot was just a step away, almost close enough to touch. 

Skyfire released the energy. 

The pent-up energy surged forward. Circuitry crackled and popped, loud enough to be heard through the wall. A klik later, it reached the machinery controlling the door. Something shattered, overloaded, and started to smoke. The energy bars wavered then died completely. 

The Autobot made a strangled sound of surprise and jerked back, hand flying towards his 'com, but Skyfire was faster. With one hand, he grabbed the minibot's shoulder, holding him in place. He used his other hand to reach towards his neck and, activating a small blade in his fingertip, cut the mech's motor controls. It was the same motion he'd done a thousand times before with unruly patients. The Autobot collapsed into a heap on the ground. Before he even hit, Skyfire was moving towards the exit. He was out the door within astroseconds. 

Outside, the hallway stretched on before him, both directions identical to his optic. To the right lay the path to Ratchet's med-bay, but the left was a mystery. He chose the left. He had no way to hide from the security cameras, so he didn't try. Instead, he ran down the halls, taking turns at random and relying on his navigational programs to keep him from getting turned around. 

He found himself in a part of the ship that felt nearly abandoned. The passages were poorly lit and scattered with bits of rock and dirt. Even so, the glimmer of security cameras still shone at every turn. Some of the halls were blocked off by doors that lacked the energy to open, forcing him to change direction. 

With every dead end and wasted moment, Skyfire could feel his chances of escape dwindling. Panic hung heavy in his stomach. He tried to ignore it. 

He grew paranoid, glancing at the empty hallways around him. Surely someone would have followed him by now. Surely they'd already found him. He swore he saw movement along the edges of his vision, but it was gone whenever Skyfire looked. He kept running. 

Taking a sharp turn, Skyfire cursed and skidded to a stop as a wall of earth and rocks blocked his way. A cave-in. He turned around but only made it a couple steps before the air in front of him began to shimmer. 

Skyfire froze as the outline of a mech appeared and solidified. He had the slim, elegant build of a Noble which, combined with the electro-disrupter, meant he could only be one mech. Mirage. A senior member of SpecOps, expert in infiltration and ranged weaponry. He was pointing a heavy-duty blaster at Skyfire's chest. 

"Hands up," he ordered. "No sudden movements or I _will_ shoot." His hands were steady on the weapon, and his combat stance never wavered. 

Skyfire stayed still, optics locked on the weapon, but his processer churned frantically in thought. His armor was thick enough to take a shot, maybe two, without sustaining serious damage, and his chest held some of his thickest plating. If he sprinted, he could be past Mirage in only a few steps, and another hall branched off almost directly behind the Autobot. If luck was with him, that might buy him another couple breems. 

The decision only took him a few astroseconds. Skyfire dove to the side and charged forward, aiming for the opening between Mirage and the wall. The pain was sudden and crippling. Skyfire's leg buckled beneath him. His momentum carried him forward another step, before collapsing to the ground. He lay there, stunned, for a moment before his processer caught up. Mirage had shot through the thinner plating of his knee, tearing into the complex machinery beneath. It was an impressive shot; Skyfire might have admired it if his processer hadn't been occupied with debilitating pain at the time. 

Skyfire painfully levered himself off the floor, dragging his leg into position when he couldn't force it to move on its own. He managed to rise to his knees before the damaged joint wouldn't take him any further, and even that made his frame tremble from the effort. 

Slow, measured steps reverberated through the hall as Mirage walked closer. Leaning heavily against the wall, Skyfire looked up to see Mirage, almost within arm's reach, still pointing his blaster at him. From where he was kneeling, Skyfire's helm was almost in line with the barrel of the weapon. 

"Next time's your shoulders," he warned. "Let's save Ratchet the trouble of patching you up more. That would be easier for everyone." 

Skyfire gritted his teeth and lowered his head in surrender, though he couldn't force his vocalizer to say the words. Mirage took the signal as the acquiescence it was, though he didn't lower his blaster. Skyfire felt the Autobot's optics on him, eyeing his frame and debating the best way to get him safely back behind bars. Skyfire clenched his fists and endured the inspection. 

Mirage shimmered out of sight again. Skyfire glanced around warily, but no stray sound or footprint gave the mech away. Something brushed against the back of his neck, and he flinched away. Then a stronger touch reached under his neck armor and tugged something free—a vital motor line, he realized with a jolt, but by then it was too late. He topple forward onto the floor as his frame stopped responding. His vision swam and audios glitched before cutting out entirely, and his sensor net grew numb. He floated, unfeeling and alone, for only a moment before unconsciousness claimed him. 

 

-/- 

When he onlined again, his frame throbbed, and his leg ached from new repairs. Even without onlining his optics, Skyfire could hear the quiet humming and clattering of someone waiting nearby. He wasn't in the med-bay; the room didn't smell of disinfectant, and he couldn't hear anyone working. The brig again, most likely. Skyfire took a deep breath. Then he onlined his optics. 

He was right. He was back in a cell. It was a different one this time though; a more secure one, he'd guess, hough it didn't look much different. On the other side of the energy bars sat Jazz. The saboteur had drawn up a chair to the edge of the cell. He had the decency to wait until Skyfire sat up and reoriented himself before starting to speak. 

"That was a stupid thin' ta try," he said. 

Skyfire grimaced. "I know." 

Jazz eyed him evenly, and Skyfire couldn't tell what he was thinking. Jazz continued speaking. "Red sent out the alert soon as his cameras caught ya shuttin' down the bars. Interestin' trick ya had there, by the way. Mind explaining your little trick with the generators?" 

Skyfire hesitated. Any thoughts of resisting quickly fizzled under Jazz's optics. Looking away, Skyfire said,"I am... familiar with the layout of a standard cell. I knew how to overload the circuits." 

Jazz hummed, sounding almost impressed. He sighed. "An' ya'd been such a _calm_ mech ta deal with 'fore that. What happened?" 

Jazz let the silence stretch on for a moment before continuing. "Well, ya got one thin' goin' for ya. That was probably the _least_ destructive escape attempt we've ever had. No real injuries, barely any destruction, an' ya gave the security team a nice workout. All in all, that's better'n what the Twins do half the time." He huffed a quiet laugh 

With that, Jazz turned around and left the room. A second Autobot—the talkative, yellow minibot—entered the room before the door could even closed and took his post at the guard's table without saying a word. The silence continued. 

   
-/- 

The pulses of spark-pain were coming more frequently. 

The first intense pulse had started a familiar cascade, and Skyfire could feel the pain building as the cycles passed. It was stronger than it had been on Cybertron—stronger, even, than it had been on the Nemesis. It felt like ice in his chest, and the pain kept getting worse. Skyfire endured.  

Skyfire had taken to staying on his berth and moving as little as possible. Sulking, he heard one of the Autobots call it. Skyfire didn't correct him. At the next shift change, a familiar, pseudo-winged figure entered, and Skyfire cursed.Bluestreak was the only Autobot he routinely spoke with. Even a solar cycle earlier, Skyfire could have probably faked it well enough to get by. This time, however, Skyfire doubted he could do even that. The pain was worsening again. It took more effort than seemed possible to just return the mech's greeting. 

Within breems, Bluestreak started to fidget, sending Skyfire slightly confused glances. Normally, Skyfire would have said something by then to add some direction to the aimless conversation. He needed to say something, but Skyfire still couldn't muster the energy. He could barely keep track of the conversation, and soon enough he lost that as well. 

Bluestreak's voice buzzed in his audios, and the words faded into an indecipherable drone. Only the pain was left. His spark felt like it was being slowly crushed in its chamber. He could feel each icy tendril as it stretched from his spark into the rest of his frame, every pulse of his spark spreading the pain deeper until nothing was left untouched. 

Movement in the corner of his eyes; Bluestreak had moved closer. With considerable effort, Skyfire managed to pay attention again. 

"Skyfire? Is something wrong?" Bluestreak asked. "'Cause you're acting really differently and you don't look quite right." 

Skyfire shook his head and managed to grunt out some sort of reassurance. At least, he thought he did— it was entirely possible the words never left his vocalizer. Either way, Bluestreak looked thoroughly unconvinced, but Skyfire couldn't muster the strength to try a second time. Bluestreak called his name again, but it sounded as if the Praxian was yelling from across the ship, not an arm's length away. His audios were starting to glitch. 

His optics, at least, were still functioning, though the Autobot was the only interesting thing to see. He almost felt sorry for the youngling. He was so obviously distressed, taking aborted little half-steps forward and back as his worry for a fellow Cybertronian warred with well-deserved caution about dealing with a prisoner. 

Skyfire contemplated trying to tell him not to worry, that the glitch would resolve itself soon enough, but if he onlined his vocalizer again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep from voicing the pained sounds that kept trying to escape. Better to stay silent. Soon enough, he stopped worrying about Bluestreak or anything else outside of the pain. 

When the familiar electrical prickle of a medical scan washed over his frame, Skyfire didn't have the energy to react. It took his scattered processer several kliks to recognize Ratchet kneeling beside him. The medic was cursing as he ran his scans. His medical access port was opened, and Skyfire didn't have the strength to protest. Then Ratchet's medical overrides sent him offline. 

   
-/- 

Skyfire onlined with the same sluggish, clumsy response he always had after a bad glitch. His processer felt disconnected from his frame, and his thoughts were slow and uncoordinated. It was an all too familiar feeling. His spark, though sore, didn't hurt anymore. The attack had been the last one of the cycle. Skyfire left his audios and optics off, unwilling to face the dizzying input from the weakened sensors, as he started running basic diagnostic on his chassis. His systems were almost always compromised from the stress to his spark and frame. 

To his surprise, everything came back in perfect condition, save for the lingering abnormalities in his spark itself. He was lying on a berth with his hands restrained. The familiar, sterile scent of a med-bay surrounded him. With an inward sigh—undoubtedly Ratchet would be waiting for him—Skyfire onlined his audios, and the sound of Ratchet's furious rant reached him. 

"-of all the idiotic, pit slagging things the glitch of a 'Con could possibly do…" the mech said, his voice punctuated by muffled clanks as the medic worked. 

It was the first time Ratchet's anger had been directed at him, but Skyfire was unconcerned about his infamous temper. He was just… tired. Ratchet's threats seemed rather superficial compared to spark pain. 

Ratchet's wandering brought him closer, and Skyfire caught another snatch of his monologue. "-didn't even know Decepticons _did_ bond, and now look at what that-" 

Ratchet continued ranting, but Skyfire didn't hear anything else. 

Ratchet knew. _Pit._  

Bad enough the Autobots had found out he had the glitch. He'd still held onto the fragile hope that, maybe, the Autobot wouldn't care enough to look into what had caused it. The Decepticons certainly wouldn't have. Skyfire clenched his fist and struggled to keep breathing. 

"You're online." 

Ratchet's irate voice jarred him back to reality. His optics blurred for a moment before focusing on Ratchet, who was standing almost directly next to his helm. 

"Do you have _any_ idea what just happened to your systems?" the medic hissed. "Your spark nearly _sputtered_ from the strain!" 

Any other situation and Skyfire would have pretended to accept the rebuke to prevent a conflict, but this was his _bond_. Skyfire couldn't let that slide. 

"I am a fully functional medic," Skyfire said tightly. "I know full well how this has affected my systems." 

Ratchet threw up his arms in exasperation. "Then where in the Pit is your Bonded!" he cried. "Slaggit, even the ' _Cons_ have to know better than to mess with bondmates." 

Skyfire's entire frame tensed, and in that moment he was almost glad for the restraints. If he'd been free, he might have done something unwise. Ratchet was treating him as if he'd had a _choice_ about the broken bond, as if Skyfire hadn't been living with the pain since before the Great War began. He wanted that self-righteous attitude _gone_. 

"Deactivated," he spat, delighting in the way the medic reared back as if struck. Shock quickly gave way to an almost confused pensiveness, and Ratchet stared at him as if trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. 

"You really-" he started, but then he stopped, looking at him with that indecipherable look on his face. " _Slag._ " He spun around and stalked off to the other side of the room. 

Skyfire's anger slowly fizzled away, and he watched the medic fumbling with his tools. That… hadn't been the reaction he'd expected. He'd never seen Ratchet walk away from a patient before. Against his will, Skyfire felt a pang of trepidation shoot through him. What was going on? 

Soon enough, Ratchet turned back. Ratchet was uncharacteristically solemn as he walked slowly back to Skyfire's berth. Skyfire half expected him to call in a guard and order him back to the cell, but Ratchet just stood there. 

"Ah, pit," he muttered, rubbing his face. He paused for a moment, steeling himself, before continuing. "The spark bond's still intact." 

Slag. Why couldn't the medic just leave it alone? "So?" 

" _So_ it's impossible for your bondmate to be dead." 

Silence. Skyfire's processer went completely blank. 

"You-" he started, but cold fury cut off his vocals. He started again, voice dangerously soft. "I felt him die, _felt_ his spark go out, and you dare tell me I'm wrong? That it didn't _happen?_ " 

He took back every charitable thought, every allowance he'd ever given to the Autobot. Any mech sadistic enough to use a broken sparkbond for his own slagging _amusement_ barely deserved to be called Cybertronian. You didn't mess with sparkbonds. Not even the Great War had managed to crush that sacred ideal. It was like intentionally harming a youngling—repugnant in every sense of the word. Ratchet was apparently one of the few that had managed to override that particular moral code. 

Ratchet's frame hardened at the accusation, but the unnamed emotion stayed infuriatingly on his face. "I'm _telling y_ ou what I saw, and it's impossible for the damage to have been caused by your bondmate's death," he said. "Broken bonds are obvious, and they don't cause whatever _that_ was." He breathed in deeply, meeting Skyfire's optics with an intensity that was far too close to true sincerity. "I'm telling you as a medic—I swear it on my spark and vows. Your systems were reacting to a bond forced far past its breaking point by isolation and who knows what else, but not a fully broken one. I don't know what you felt or why you think he deactivated, but, whether you believe me or not, that's what I know." 

His tone was enough to freeze Skyfire in his tracks. Ratchet was every inch the Iacon-trained medic he'd been since before the war—coolly professional and serious in a way he'd only experienced once before, from the medics that had treated him after Starscream's deactivation. Skyfire searched Ratchet's frame almost desperately for some sign of deception and found none. For a moment, fear trickled in and settled heavily against his core. 

"You're lying," Skyfire whispered. His voice cracked. 

He had to be. Because if he was telling the truth… If Ratchet was right about the bond and the glitches, and Skyfire truly had misjudged what he'd felt... It would mean Starscream had been _alive_ for thousands of vorns, and Skyfire had _left_ him there. Had ignored every sign from the sparkbond and left his bondmate to rust, frozen in the arctic wasteland where he'd crashed. 

And Skyfire couldn't accept that. 

"YOU PIT-SLAGGING _GLITCH!_ " he roared. He tried to push himself away from the berth, intent on punching the lying slagger, but the restraints on his wrist jerked him back down before he got a foot off the surface. Ratchet lurched backwards with a startled oath, but Skyfire didn't stop. He yanked on the metal bindings, using his full strength for one of the few times in his existence. 

How dare he. How _dare_ he try to use the bond against him like that. Taunt him with Starscream, with the very idea that he might still be online after all these vorns. He didn't know what the slag the medic was hoping to accomplish, and he didn't care. The only thing he could think about was making him pay for what he'd tried to do. Make him feel even a fraction of the pain of an empty bond. 

How _dare_ Ratchet taunt him with even the smallest sliver of hope that he could ever see Starscream again. 

Metal shrieked as it started to give way under his strength, and Ratchet let out a new round of curses. New voices entered the room in blurs of frantic movement and solid hands that forced him back down, but Skyfire didn't even glance at them. He had optics only for the medic. Even as someone behind him stuck a needle in his neck and the world started to darken, Skyfire refused to relinquish the locked gaze between them. As the tranquilizer forced his systems to shut down, the last thing he saw was Ratchet's conflicted blue optics staring back at him. 

~.*.~ 

**AN:** So, sorry for the delay with the chapter! On the plus side, I've officially finished med-school primary and secondary applications!


	15. Decisions to Make

When Skyfire onlined, he was lying on his berth in the familiar darkness of the brig. For the first time in solar cycles his hands were bound with energon cuffs. Skyfire rattled them experimentally, and they held easily against his strength. It had been a while since Skyfire'd needed to deal with the cuffs; the relapse was unpleasant. 

Rage lingered, heavy and bitter on his spark, but it no longer clouded his processer. The all-consuming anger had burned itself out sometime during his unconsciousness. He could think now, at least, even if he didn't want to. 

His mind immediately, unwillingly went to his spark. The glitch had ended and the worst of the pain faded, though his spark was still sore to the touch. 

Skyfire didn't enjoy probing at his spark. He hated the pain and the emptiness. The constant reminder of Starscream's absence. For the first time in vorns, Skyfire ignored it. He offlined his optics, steadied himself as best he could, and felt into his spark. He brushed against the end of the bond, where Starscream had resided so long ago. 

It felt like a solid wall. Empty. Blocked off. The bond ended, and he felt the familiar shiver of cold as he pressed up against it.  

Nothing of Starscream was left in the bond, no shadow of emotion or flicker of warmth. The same way it had been for millennia.  

He took his hand away from where it had been clenched against his chest and straightened again, unsure when he'd curled around his spark. He clenched his hands together in his lap and steeled his frame. 

He was a Decepticon. A soldier _._ He refused to let any of the Autobots see just how deeply he'd been affected. 

If the Autobot was tricking him, he would not give him the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart. He would _not_ let them win. Not when they'd already taken so much. If Ratchet had brought up the bond to make him feel vulnerable, then he wouldn't let them to see how well it had worked. 

He heard a sound from outside the cell, and Skyfire jerked back to reality. He glanced passed the energy bars, and Mirage looked back. It was the first time Skyfire had seen him since his botched escape attempt. 

The sound must have been intentional, a way to get his attention; Mirage was too experienced to make such a rookie mistake. So Skyfire gave him his full attention. Mirage accepted his focus with a gracious nod of his head. 

"Shall I contact Ratchet for you?" He asked. "He left instructions stating he wishes to finish his inspection of your frame after the malfunction you suffered." 

His voice was as crisply polite as he would have expected from a former Noble, though Skyfire could sense a faint, well-hidden hint of curiosity. Skyfire eyed him warily. Did he know? Had Ratchet already shared his secret with the rest of the Autobots? His spark rolled with unease. 

"Yes," Skyfire replied, long after the pause in the conversation stretched into discomfort. "Please inform Ratchet I wish to speak with him again." 

Mirage nodded, and he stilled for a moment as he accessed his com system. "Done," he said. "Ratchet will arrive momentarily." 

Mirage backed politely away to a more comfortable distance, near where the guards usually sat. He stayed there, watching him, but Skyfire ignored him in favor of figuring out exactly what he was going to say to Ratchet. 

His thoughts were still messy, jumbled things, and Skyfire struggled to bring them under control. It didn't work well, but he felt marginally better when the door opened and Ratchet walked inside.  

Ratchet's face was tight, mouth set in a thin line and armor held rigidly against his frame. He stopped directly in front of the bars and stared inside. After a moment, he glanced at Mirage, who was observing from a respectful distance away. 

"Mirage. Out." 

Mirage inclined his head and swept out of the doorway. The room seemed tenser without his presence. Skyfire waited for the medic to make his move, but he only stared silently inward. Eventually, Skyfire gave in. 

"I want an explanation," Skyfire said as calmly as he could. Some of his impatience still leaked into his voice. 

Ratchet sighed and passed a hand over his helm. The gesture was surprisingly weary. "You'll get one, don't worry. As much as I'm capable of giving you anyway." 

"Then _explain._ " 

The order visibly rankled Ratchet, but he didn't retaliate. Part of Skyfire was almost disappointed. Ratchet's appearance had fed the deep well of anger still burning in his chest, and he would have enjoyed the chance to yell at the mech again. Still, getting information was far more important than working out some aggression, so he held his tongue. 

Ratchet held his hands stiffly behind him, as if giving an official medical report, as he started to speak. 

"When I responded to Bluestreak's call, several of your systems were already entering the first stages of shutdown. I determined the problem was spark-based and, after some minor repairs on your fuel system and internal temperature controls, had you transferred into my med-bay. Your vitals continued to drop so I ran a spark-scan to determine the cause." He paused, meeting Skyfire's optics seriously. "I found that your spark had gone into distress caused by the strain of supporting a vastly weakened bond. The bond was still anchored to your spark, but it was severely damaged." 

"I did what I could to offset the damage and waited for the glitch to work itself out. Your spark readings eventually returned to normal levels, though the bond remained as-" he made a sharp, searching gesture, as if struggling to encompass the scope of the problem. " _fragmented_ as it had been before. Judging by the state of the bond, I'm guessing this isn't the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last." He hesitated for a moment before asking, "How long has it been?" 

Skyfire didn't answer. Bad enough that Ratchet knew this much; Skyfire wouldn't give him any more. Not before he was sure Ratchet wasn't trying to trick him. 

" _Fine,"_ Ratchet huffed. _"_ Judging from the extent of the degradation, it has to have been at least megavorns. Maybe longer. Which is just…" He broke off with a disgusted grumble about careless medics not worth their markings. "Why didn't anyone catch it before it got so far?" 

"Spark-scans aren't customarily given after a broken bond has settled. The medics who repaired me had no reason to doubt my report." 

The scans were rarely performed at all, barring incidents of known spark-damage or potential deactivation. By the time Skyfire had reached Cybertron again, enough time had passed that his spark had stabilized and nothing else could have been done. Spark damage was permanent, after all—few people choose to allow such an invasive scan when there were alternatives, and he'd been no different. 

Ratchet eyed him speculatively, and the harsh angles of his face deepened. "You don't believe me," he stated. It wasn't a question. 

Stony silence. 

Ratchet snorted. "I can't really blame you. You have questions. Ask away." 

He leaned backwards against the wall and crossed his arms, challenging Skyfire to prove him wrong. Contrary to Skyfire's expectations, Ratchet actually seemed serious. He'd expected Ratchet to control the conversation and fight him for every scrap of information, not give him free reign to ask uncomfortable questions. 

He decided to start with something simple. "What happens to a sparkbond after a deactivation?" he asked. 

"It breaks." Ratchet said immediately. "Without the second spark to anchor the bond, it begins to dissolve almost immediately and is gone within kliks. Causes some severe spark-damage and scaring, which can lead to deactivation of the remaining bondmate. Even if he survives, the damage is permanent and very distinctive." 

"What would cause a bond to deteriorate instead?" 

Ratchet hesitated, and Skyfire could see how carefully he was choosing his words. "In most cases, distance. If two bondmates are far enough apart for enough time, then the connection becomes strained and the bond begins to weaken. The longer the bond is left to fade, the worse it becomes." 

"But that would take time. Decline gradually." 

"Yes." 

So that was it, then. Ratchet really was just toying with him. The... the break had been anything but gradual, back in the storm when he'd felt it snap His spark ached dully at the confirmation. He'd refused to let himself hope Ratchet was telling the truth, but it stung to be proven right regardless. 

He turned away from Ratchet. "If that is all, then I would like you to-" 

"I said that was the most common way, not the only one," Ratchet interrupted sharply. Against his better judgment, Skyfire hesitated. He put a hand against the wall beside him, letting the cool metal anchor him. 

Ratchet continued quickly, pushing to make his point before losing Skyfire's attention again. "There's another quicker, though rarer, way to block a bond. If a mech is seriously damaged or in an extremely deep stasis, then their spark can become weak enough to stop registering with their bondmate's. Deactivation or recovery almost always follows soon after, and the bond either completely breaks or is restored to normal functioning." 

He paused, wrestling with something invisible, before continuing. "I saw it happen once, long before the war. Half of a bonded pair had been crippled, and most of his systems were failing or already gone. He was weak and in one of the deepest stasis I've ever seen. The other mech thought his bonded had deactivated joors before it actually happened. Attacked the medic that tried to tell him otherwise. There were some studies into it, back when something like that was possible, but nothing came of it. Theoretically, if the stasis continued without the spark strengthening or extinguishing, the state would eventually lead to the same degradation as any other long-term separation between bondmates." 

Skyfire froze as soon as soon as Ratchet mentioned stasis. A cold weight settled in his core, and his plating tensed against his frame.  

He'd never heard of a spark being too weak to support a bond. Then again, he knew firsthand how bond strength could fluctuate. The changes had been small, but the bond had been strongest when Starscream was online and beside him and would fade into the background when the Seeker was unconscious. But even with half a world of distance between them, he had never lost the warmth of Starscream's spark until that day in the storm.  

"What type of damage would send a mech into that kind of stasis?" His voice wavered slightly at the end, and he prayed Ratchet hadn't caught the incriminatory slip.  

Ratchet grimaced. "I'm not an expert on this," he warned. "I'd only heard of a handful of cases, and they were all vastly different from one other. It… seemed to be any damage critical enough to start shutting down systems but not immediately fatal. Usually, some outside influence, either medically or environmentally induced, delayed spark extinguishment long enough to create the lag." 

The storm. The thick layers of ice encasing the surface of the planet. Extreme cold could preserve processer capabilities and major systems better than any other element. If Starscream had survived the initial crash, he would have quickly been buried under layers of ice and snow. The crash and ice would have caused damaged, but Cybertronian frames were resilient. 

Without a spark, a deactivated frame was brittle. It decayed, rusted, fell apart without spark-energy present to energize it. Any spark, no matter how weak, stabilized the frame and kept it alive. Deactivated, Starscream would have started fallen apart within vorns. Yet… if his spark still pulsed, his frame could survive the eons with only moderate damage, and Starscream's frame was tougher than most. It was—had been—standard procedure to install specialized armor on interstellar explorers. Starscream's in particular had been designed for speed, efficiency, and endurance. Assuming the crash didn't deactivate him, it would be a long, long time before ice and ill-maintenance killed him. 

Something rattled against the wall beside him, and Skyfire was surprised to see fine tremors wracking his arm, causing the thin platting of his hand to clatter against the metal. Huh. He clenched the digits into a fist, but that didn't stop the tremble. 

Only Skywarp and Thundercracker knew what had happened to Starscream. Nothing else—not the medical files, Iacon's records, or even the medics who'd treated him—knew about the crash and the ice. Ratchet couldn't possibly know the circumstances. He couldn't have intentionally shaped his explanation around the crash. 

Ratchet was still watching him. Skyfire could feel his optics on him—observing, analyzing, _judging._ "Skyfire…" Ratchet started hesitantly. He looked uncertain; the emotion fit him poorly. 

"Leave." The word came out stronger than Skyfire had intended, choked with emotion. His next try was better, more controlled. "Just—go. Please." 

Ratchet left. 

The security camera still flashed from its corner of the room, but no other Autobot replaced him. Skyfire was grateful for the illusion of privacy. He couldn't endure having the helplessness of his captivity thrown so bluntly into his face, not then. The walls pressed in on him, and the spark-deep _need_ to move, to escape from the prison and fly far away, blazed to life in his chest. He forced the sensation away, burying it deep inside his mental walls where it couldn't influence his actions. 

The bond was sensitive from the glitch, and every touch sent sharp spikes of pain radiating across his frame. He released a short breath and probed carefully forward, nudging past sensitive edges as carefully as he could. He ran into the familiar, biting wall quickly, but this time he didn't let the frozen ache and emptiness stop him. He pressed his consciousness up against the blockage and _pushed._  

His spark flared in its chamber, and he hissed at the sudden, pulsing pain. He kept pushing. He'd endured worse pain than this for lesser causes. He would not let this stop him. Familiar waves of ice crept into his spark and enveloped his spark. Error messages built up in his processer as his systems reacted, and he dismissed them with a thought. He wondered absentmindedly if it was possible to trigger the glitch by pushing too far, but the thought seemed unimportant. 

The emptiness—the sheer _absence_ of everything the bond should have been—tore at him as much as the physical pain. He spared a processer thread to lock down his motor controls when his frame started to react but otherwise ignored the effects. He would keep looking until he'd searched every crevice of the bond or the limits of his frame dragged him unwillingly back. So he filled the bond with as much of himself as he could, forcing warmth into the long-dormant bond and pulsing his presence as far as he could. He searched for what felt like breems, until his spark felt raw and abused, and he still kept going. 

Something pulsed back. 

It was the faintest whisper of sensation, a pale echo of awareness barely even strong enough to register, but it was something other than the cold and pain and emptiness. The echo flickered and died as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Skyfire grasping at nothing. 

He chased after the fleeting warmth with everything he had, pushing himself far past his normal limits until each thought made his helm burn, but he could feel his frame weakening. Every klik made it harder to push through the edges of the bond and increased the strain on his frame. He was being torn away from the far edges of the bond, and the degraded connection had nothing for him to hold onto. His very spark was starting to fight against him, condensing inward defensively to protect itself from further damage. Skyfire couldn't fight forever. Eventually, he was forced to admit defeat—he could barely even touch his side of the bond anymore, let alone the far edges along the block. 

His frame started shaking again as he released the restrictions on his motor control, and he collapsed gratefully against the cool metal of his berth. His entire frame ached, and his processer was already beginning to shut down so his self-repair could work. He didn't have time to think or plan or try to work past the thoughtless shock of what he'd felt. He could only clutch desperately at the memory of finding _something_ at the end of the bond. It had been so weak—barely a flicker of warmth, not even a true thought or brush of emotion. It hadn't been _enough._ He couldn't even tell if the faint flicker had been Starscream or some imagined illusion born of desperation. As he sank into the darkness of unconsciousness, one last question passed through his mind. 

What would he sacrifice to have Starscream back with him? 

The answer came immediately, ripped from the deepest corner of his spark and nurtured by the endless pain of an empty bond. 

_Anything._  

-/- 

Skyfire came back to awareness with a jerk that nearly sent him tumbling off the edge of the small berth. He _hurt,_ and it took a klik for his memories to click back into place. He pressed a hand over his chest. His spark ached fiercely with every pulse of life, and even brushing lightly against the bond made agony flare up across his sensor net. He nearly tried to press into the bond regardless, but common sense stopped him before he could do any further damage. 

He'd felt _something_ at the edges of the bond. The memory file was crisp and clear despite the pain and he reviewed it almost desperately. It still wasn't enough—even in the memory, the flicker of sensation was too weak, too fleeting for him to determine anything. 

Had Skyfire still been free, he would search the artic for his bondmate's frame and slag the consequences. The smallest suggestion that Starscream might be online was enough to take that risk. If he could just send a transmission to Skywarp and Thundercracker, he knew they would go with him. _If_. Of course, he couldn't. His 'com system was fully locked down now, and he had no chance of convincing his captors to open a link to the Nemesis for him. Wouldn't have, even if he could. He wouldn't let the Autobots know about the Seekers. Refused o give them that much power over them. 

Skyfire took a deep breath. Then another. He couldn't fly to the Arctic, no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn't even leave the cell. Unless something changed drastically, that wouldn't change for a long time. Skyfire didn't think he could wait that long. 

He rubbed at his chest, though it did nothing to soothe the spark-deep burn. The glitches had been getting worse. Ever since leaving Cybertron, they'd been getting more intense and coming closer together. 

Even if Starscream had... if his spark had survived, he'd been trapped in the ice for megavorns, since before the war had even began. Cybertronian frames were durable, but they didn't last forever. How much damage would have accumulated? 

How much longer until time caught up to him and finished what the crash had started? 

Skyfire.... He didn't know what to believe. He wasn't sure he could trust Ratchet's explanation, no matter how much he wanted to. Maybe because of it. He was thoroughly compromised, and Skyfire could barely care. 

Finally, he sat up, groaning as his frame protested the movement. Self-repair had fixed most of the minor damage from forcing his frame past its limits, but he still ached. The constant, dull throb from his spark only worsened the problem. He swung his legs over the side of the berth and kept stretching them until the pain and stiffness faded into a dull throb. 

The guard table was occupied, as he'd expected. The cheerful yellow minibot was back, sitting at the lone chair and focused on a datapad in his hands. He glanced over as Skyfire sat up, but his attention quickly returned to his datapad. Skyfire didn't catch his attention again until he was standing by the bars. The minibot set his datapad down and stood up, optics focused on the cell. A well-maintained rifle was lying obtrusively next to his hand. 

Skyfire took a deep, fortifying breath and started to speak. 

"I would like to arrange an audience with Optimus Prime." 

~.*.~ 


	16. Reminiscence

Optimus Prime lived up to his weighty title. He was a tall mech, nearly as large as Skyfire himself, with thick, warrior-grade plating and enough corporeal strength to grapple Megatron to a standstill. He had a presence about him too, something greater than his physical size. Standing in front of him, Skyfire could almost feel why so many mecha had been draw to his cause.  

The Prime gestured, and Ironhide grunted and started fiddling with Skyfire's cuffs. The cuffs deactivated, sending strange prickles up his arms. Skyfire hesitantly lowered his hands to his sides and shook them out in short, quick motions. 

He was surprised when Ironhide left the room. Grateful as he was for the privacy, he hadn't expected to be left alone with the Prime, especially not unchained. 

The Prime gestured towards a seat in front of his desk, and Skyfire reluctantly obeyed. Skyfire forced himself not to fidget under his heavy gaze. 

Skyfire took a deep, steadying breath. Then he started to speak. "I would like to negotiate a deal with you, Prime," he said. He was proud of how steady he managed to hold his voice. "I assume Ratchet has shared what he discovered with you?" 

The Prime inclined his head "After Ratchet was forced to sedate you, he informed me of the situation. Rest assured that he and I are the only ones who know of this." 

Surprisingly, the reassurance did help. Sincerity almost seemed to waft off of him, and Skyfire wanted to believe him. Better that only two should know than an entire army, his most precious secret passed around like idle gossip. 

Clenching his hands together to stop them from shaking, Skyfire started. "You found this planet on maps from the former Iacon Academy, correct? It would have been marked as a stable, energy-rich planet with no sentient species to claim it. One of the few such planets in existence." 

Back then, Earth had been deemed too far away for casual harvesting, but that had been a long time ago, before the war made every scrap of energy valuable. The Autobots must have stumbled across the old record and determined the lure of energy worth the risk. 

Prime was silent for a moment, optics dark. "Yes. How did you know that?" 

 Suspicion marked his words, and Skyfire was quick to assuage it. 

"Because my partner and I were the ones who discovered it. We were… interplanetary explorers, and this was one of the areas we charted. The planet was younger back then, with far less stable atmospheric patterns than now. While we were investigating the northern pole of this planet, a large, powerful storm developed around us with little warning. My partner crashed and was lost. I had believed him deactivated." 

Skyfire had to pause a moment to work through the emotion that seemed lodged in his vocalizer.  

"The malfunction I had was one of many that have occurred since the crash. I had believed it to be some sort of sensory echo from his deactivation. Ratchet told me that the damage to the sparkbond was consistent with what happens when a bondmate is deep in stasis. Not deactivated. " 

One last breath. One last chance to back out. He didn't take it. 

"I am willing to make a deal with you," he said quietly. "If Ratchet is correct, then my sparkmate has remained in stasis on this planet for many decavorns. Allow me to search for him, and I will tell you anything you with to know about the Decepticons after his recovery. " He offered the Prime a grim smile; more of a grimace, really. "I believe you will not find my knowledge lacking. I've served as a certified medic aboard the Flagship for nearly a vorn now. Weapon schematics, frametype designs, coding weaknesses… My position has given me access to many things that could give you an advantage." 

He paused for a moment to let that sink in. 

"However. If we find him and you're _wrong_ , we will give what remains of his frame a proper burial. If I find you've been trying to manipulate me--to manipulate my _bond--_ then I swear I will hunt down everyone and everything involved in the deception or die in the attempt." 

Skyfire knew it was foolish to threaten his captors. Yet, the thought that the Autobots were lying about this made his frame burn with anger. For once in his life, he truly meant the threat; he would do whatever it took to get revenge on mecha who would abuse a broken bond. 

The Prime stilled at the warning, but he didn't look like he was about to punish him for his impertinence. Instead, he almost seemed to _acknowledge_ the threat as if it were normal. 

"Ratchet would not deceive you about something like this, nor would I authorize any such orders." 

He said it with such iron conviction that Skyfire was tempted to believe him. There was a reason bonds were so highly revered, after all. Even before the war, it had been rare for two bots to tie their sparks together. Less than a half of a percent of their population had found that sort of connection, excluding the Seekers with their unique trinebond.  

Still, the war had changed many things. He could only hope this hadn't been one of them. 

"I have no reason to trust your word," Skyfire countered. "Time will determine what the truth is." 

"So it will," the Prime murmured softly. "I cannot in good conscience prevent you from searching for your bondmate, but you've placed me in a difficult position. You realize that we would be unable to trust you?" 

That was just stating the obvious. He was still a prisoner, whatever pretty words Prime wanted to use to dress up his reluctant compliance. They had as little reason to trust him as he had them. 

"Yes. I am willing to accept any condition, any safeguard you wish to ensure my compliance. You have my word I would not attempt to escape unless I find proof of a deception." 

Skyfire did not give that oath lightly. He never had. He'd learned how to fight, installed weaponry into his frame, and seen more mecha die than he could comprehend, but, once given, he never broke his word. 

The Prime accepted his oath with a crisp nod. "I must discuss the logistics with the rest of the Officers to determine what will be done. You'll be called back once an agreement has been reached. For now, I must ask you to follow Ironhide back to the brig." 

It wasn't a promise, but it was something. More than he'd dared hope for, even. When Ironhide entered, he allowed the mech to refasten the stasis cuffs and lead him out of the room. For once, his processer was blissfully calm. It was done. 

Now all he could do was wait. 

  … 

" _This_ is an EMP pulsar." 

Ratchet thrust an innocent looking device in front of Skyfire's optics. Skyfire leaned back slightly on the medical berth as Ratchet's arm came a bit too close, but he obligingly studied the small bit of machinery. Ratchet kept the pulsar against his face for another few moments before pulling it away. 

"It's keyed into the signal of every Autobot on base," Ratchet said. "You do _anything_ we don't like while you're out there, we activate it and you turn into a helpless scrapheap on the ground." He paused for a moment, giving the pulsar a thoughtful glance. "That said, if any Autobot decides to _abuse_ that safeguard, they'll have to answer to me." 

Ratchet buzzed away as quickly as he'd come, moving towards another tool-laden table and muttering darkly under his breath. He paused in his preparations to swing back in Skyfire's direction. 

"And don't even _think_ about trying tamper with it," he warned, brandishing a wrench at him threateningly. "The access responds only to my programming, and I'll be checking it periodically." 

Skyfire nodded pacifyingly at the medic, and Ratchet turned back to his tools, leaving Skyfire alone on the medical berth. He stayed meekly where Ratchet had left him; he knew from experience to stay out of the way of another medic. 

Negotiations with Prime had, honestly, gone better than he'd expected. He'd been prepared for anything when he'd been called back into Prime's office, but, to his immense surprise, the Prime had agreed to his terms. With some stipulations, of course. 

The EMP pulsar wasn't the only security measure he'd agreed to, though it was the most invasive. He would be monitored at all times and the Aerialbots, as the only available flyers, would be physically guarding him. His 'com systems were still locked tightly down. 

Not everyone had been happy with the arrangement. The Security Director, Red Alert, had nearly blown a fuse, but they'd eventually come to a consensus. The info Skyfire held was just too valuable to refuse. He may not be high rank, but he was a medic and that was almost as good. At this stage, information could give them a substantial advantage in the war. 

Ratchet finally seemed to finish setting up his workstation. He fiddled with the different tools for a moment longer, rearranging the order for no discernible reason, before pushing the cart closer to Skyfire's berth. 

Before starting, he asked, "Medical stasis or motor override? You're choice—same to me either way." 

"I would prefer to be conscious," Skyfire said. He didn't trust Ratchet _that_ much. 

He tensed as Ratchet plugged into his medical port, and then felt his frame slacken as Ratchet deactivated his motor controls. Skyfire squashed a brief burst of panic at the loss of function. He slowly relaxed as he grew used to the strange lack of sensation. He could hear the slide and clatter of metal as Ratchet started to work, though he couldn't feel anything as Ratchet started removing plating. 

One section of his processer focused on monitoring Ratchet as he worked, but the remainder of his thoughts was free to drift. There was only one thought he could focus on. 

He was really going through with this. 

It felt like a betrayal. Truthfully, it _was_ a betrayal. If everything went as Skyfire hoped and he found Starscream, then he would become an informant for the Autobots. A traitor. The word itself brought a grimace of disgust to his face. Past that, though, he felt surprisingly little over the idea of leaving the Decepticons. 

He'd never been a dedicated Decepticon. He hadn't joined out of passion or loyalty but because it had been the only tolerable option left. He'd learned how to be a good soldier, had pledged his loyalty to the Cause, even managed to find some measure of happiness amidst the war, and yet… The memories of his time as a medic and soldier paled in comparison to the time he'd spent as a scientist with Starscream beside him. 

Still, even if life as a soldier had fit him poorly, he'd once respected what the Decepticons stood for. Class equality, fair energon distribution, a purging of corruption… they'd been noble goals. But that had been a long time ago, and the war had stolen whatever honorable intentions had once existed. 

He'd lost his respect for Megatron as a leader the moment he'd sent Thundercracker to the med-bay. Even before that, he'd found himself questioning their Leader's decisions: his refusal to compromise or negotiate, his lack of appreciation for mundane necessities, his tendency towards excessive force and destruction… Still, there were good mecha with the 'Cons. Mecha who'd joined the 'Cons for their own reasons—good or bad—and survived the war as best they could. 

Above everything else, he wished Skywarp and Thundercracker could be there. He didn't want to do this alone. The others deserved to be here, to _know..._ But Skyfire had no way of contacting them. He could only hope the two Seekers could accept his decision. 

He said he'd sacrifice anything to have Starscream back with him again, and he'd meant it. His freedom, his honor, even his relationship with Skywarp and Thundercracker. 

He hadn't realized how lost in thought he'd become until Ratchet jacked into his medical port again to remove the motor blocks. Ratchet had finished and disconnected almost before Skyfire registered what had happened. Ratchet thumped him once on his back, making Skyfire jump as his sensor net recalibrated. 

"We're done here. I've already 'commed Ironhide to come back in," Ratchet said. 

Ratchet had almost physically chased Ironhide out of the med-bay after he'd brought Skyfire in, yelling something about idiots who wouldn't stop hovering. Skyfire sat up, feeling the slight, aching pain where Ratchet had added the new device. It would fade as his systems adjusted. Swinging his legs over the side of the berth, he stood up to meet Ironhide as the med-bay door slid open. 

… 

They left within cycles, as soon as the final preparations could be made. Skyfire waited, unmoving and unspeaking, until they were ready. He ignored the Autobots milling around the room and the cluster of Aerialbots sneaking glances at him. 

It was a relief when they let him outside. He flew. 

The sky was clear and blue, and the air parted cleanly around his wings. It'd been a long time, almost too long, since he'd last been outside. Not long enough for Sky-hunger to set in, but enough for it to ache, deep and bitter, across his frame. The pain faded as soon as he left the ground. 

Skyfire barely felt any of it. 

Some part of him distantly noticed the release of tension and the brightness of his surroundings. He recognized the Aerialbots as they fell into formation beside him. They shifted back and forth across the sky, too young to have learned military precision. Their movements were almost playful. He didn't react, even when Fireflight nudged at him curiously.  

He was going back. Decavorns and decavorns later, he was finally going back to the ice. This time, he wasn't leaving until he found Starscream. Even if it was only to give him a proper buriel. Primus, he hoped- 

Skyfire cut off the thought, even though it hurt. He couldn't afford to hope, not when it could so easily tear him apart again, but Primus he wanted to. 

… 

The ground beneath them gave way to empty ocean. The temperature inched downward until small blocks of ice appeared beneath them then larger ones. Eventually, the scattered ice merged into a solid sheet. 

Skyfire led the way, following eon-old memories and coordinates he hadn't allowed himself to think about in decavorns. Eventually, they reached the place where he and Starscream had first touched down, and Skyfire guided them lower. He transformed, and metal whispered behind him as the Autobots follow. 

The Arctic had changed over the millennia. Time had shifted the ice until it bore little resemblance to his old maps. The atmospheric composition had shifted as well, but Skyfire could still see traces of the planet from his memory files. The ice was still the same. It crunched under his weight just as he remembered, and the wind howled against his plating, buffeting them with an unending haze of drifting snow. Dark clouds swirled in the distance. 

His navigational systems had been broken during that storm, but he still remembered the path that would take him to the last place he'd ever seen Starscream. 

He didn't fly. Instead, he walked, letting the memories come. They'd started off close to this sector, drawn by a particularly intricate pattern of ice. They'd wandered north along several ridges that no longer existed. Skyfire stopped at a nondescript slab of ice, letting the wind shift the snow around his feet. 

This was it. The landscape was different, the ridges and shape of the terrain gone, but these were the coordinates where he'd been standing when the storm hit. This time, his external sensors were fully activated. He wouldn't be caught off guard again. 

The ground behind him crunched as one of the younglings approached. Skyfire didn't bother turning around to see which one it was. 

"This is where we'll start looking. He could have crashed anywhere within a few cycles' flight from here, and there's no guarantee the planet's tectonic movement hasn't shifted his frame further away." 

Skyfire glanced backwards to find the gestalt leader, Silverbolt, standing a step behind him. His wings were angled slightly and his planting clamped down just a bit too tightly. When he spoke, his voice wasn't quite commanding, though it tried to be. 

 "We'll let you search alone, but stay within a hic of me, alright? I don't want to use the EMP pulser, but I will if I have to." 

Skyfire nodded his agreement, and some of the tension left the Aerialbot. He could see the others huddling up nearby, gesturing at their surroundings as they mapped a search pattern. Skyfire left them to it. He started walking away, heading towards the areas where he'd last felt Starscream's spark before it had disappeared. 

The Arctic was a big place. 

 … 

They didn't find Starscream the first orn. Or the second. Soon enough, an entire decaorn had passed without result. The Aerialbots came and went—taking shifts, he supposed. Skyfire ignored them and kept looking. He recharged in short spurts against the ice when he couldn't put it off anymore and drank energon whenever his guards brought him a cube. Eventually, he grew accustomed to the cold and the feel of snow crunching under his weight. 

His spark ached. He didn't know whether it was a remnant of the stress from earlier or a sign of how close Starscream's frame was, but his spark continued to pulse with pain and cold. He tried testing the bond again, but his spark rebelled everytime he pressed close to the ragged edges. He didn't stop trying. 

Engines roared overhead, and Skyfire glance upward. He recognizes Silverbolt as the youngling grew closer and landed. 

"Skyfire?" he said, sounding every inch his age. "We found something." 

All at once, Skyfire's processer fell silent. All his thoughts and doubts and plans shuddered to a stop, leaving Skyfire empty. 

"Lead me there," he said. The command stuck in his vocalizer, coming out more like a plea. 

Silverbolt turned and took off, and Skyfire followed. They didn't have to fly far. On the ground, two brighter blurs of color were waiting. 

Fireflight and Skydive were standing in the middle of a deep basin, digging deeper into the ice. Snow was already heaped around its edges in large blocks. They both looked up at the sound of his approach. Fireflight clambered out of the deep hole, and his brother followed soon after. Skyfire stopped paying attention to them as soon as they left his field of vision. 

Standing on the edge of the melted ice, he sent his own scans into the hole. They came back positive. Barely a few mechameters down lay something far denser than the surrounding ice. 

He jumped down, using his thrusters to slow his descent. Landing with a soft thud, Skyfire crouched and laid a hand on the ground. He carefully activated his thrusters and, steadying himself against the ice, aimed the flame at the center. Vapor curled around him, reaching towards the sky, and melting water dripped down the sides to freeze in abstract patterns. Skyfire barely noticed the other flyers disappearing as they backed away, giving him some privacy. He could only focus on the ice gradually melting under his feet and the steadily disappearing distance between him and what was almost certainly his bondmate's frame. 

Once his sensors pinged that he was getting close, he started moving the ice with his hands instead. The joints burned from the cold and recrystalized water, but Skyfire kept going. He didn't want to risk the flames causing damage. 

His hand trembled as he brushed the last layer of snow away. Metal gleamed underneath—a bright white edged with red. Not grey. That was the only thought Skyfire could hold onto. The metal hadn't faded into the grey of deactivation. Nanites were sustained by spark energy, and Starscream's weren't dead. 

He dug deeper, cracking and shifting the ice surrounding the rest of the broad plate. His hand eventually found the edge, and his fingers curled easily onto the opposite side of the thin metal. A wing, then. He followed the edge of the limb, breaking large chunks of ice off as he felt further down. 

He paused at the feel of a crooked bend in the metal. The upper edge of Starscream's wing stuck out unnaturally from his frame, and the torn edges had healed poorly. Skyfire worked carefully around the damage. 

Starscream's frame slowly came into view. He was curled in on itself, as if he was trying to protect his spark. His wings looked to have suffered the worst of the impact, though most of his right side was covered in unhealed dents. It was—better than he'd expected. Harder too. Because he still looked like Starscream, and he couldn't stop hearing the quiet voice that insisted he was digging up his bondmate's corpse. 

He did stop again when he uncovered Starscream's face, forcing back a shudder. Starscream's color was still there—dull, chipped, but _there_ —but his features were frozen in a pained grimace and his armor was hard and motionless to the touch. No energon or electrical signals pulsed under his armor, and his plating was cold. 

He'd already dug out a small hollow around Starscream's back and head, so it was the work of only a few kliks to remove the ice covering the rest of the Seeker's torso. His fingers stung as the ice scoured a layer of metal and nanites off, but he barely even noticed the damage. This was it. He had Starscream within reach; now all that remained was to find out whether he had his bondmate back or an empty frame to bury. 

He placed one hand against Starscream's chest, directly above his spark. It was cold. Frozen, along with the rest of his frame. If Starscream's spark was still there, it wasn't strong enough to be felt through the thick layers of armor protecting it. Glancing up to make sure the Aerialbots had truly left, Skyfire carefully reached lower, to the almost invisible seams crossing the center of his plating. 

As exploratory partners, Starscream's frame had been programmed to react automatically to Skyfire's spark signature. He could only hope Starscream's frame was still able to recognize that command. As the plating shuddered under his hands, Skyfire knew it was. Shards of ice flaked off Starscream's chest with soft cracks as the panels jerked into motion. Skyfire had to manually fold some of the circuitry away when broken gears refused to function. 

The inside of Starscream's chest was a mess of poorly healed scars and the remains of burst circuits where his systems had been unable to protect the delicate mechanisms. His hand shook, but Skyfire laid one finger against the fragile metal casing enclosing Starscream's spark 

This time, he could feel the warmth. 

Skyfire's spark twisted in his chest as his frame reacted, and he grunted as the bond howled, demanding to be remade whole. Motor control almost gave out on him, and he very nearly collapsed alongside Starscream. 

He must have made some sort of sound, but he barely registered the half-broken keen. 

Ratchet had been telling the truth. 

Starscream was alive. 

He reverently folded Starscream's chest back together. His spark twinged as the barrier rose between them. Soon—soon—it wouldn't matter anymore. If Ratchet was right, then all they needed to do was bring Starscream out of stasis, and the bond would reassert itself. He would finally be whole for the first time in millennia. 

It seemed like no time at all before Starscream's lower body was free from the ice. Skyfire picked him up, cradling his frame against his chest, and activated his thrusters, bringing them both out of the hole. The ice still clung to Starscream's armor. With the heat of Skyfire's systems so close, the ice started to melt, dripping from Starscream's armor and between plating. 

"Let's go." 

~.*.~ 

 


	17. A Slow Recovery

The Aerialbots were watching him.  

The wind howled around them, too loud for any questions or conversation. So the younglings stared and shifted around him for a better look at Starscream. The distance took longer to cover with only the thrusters of their root mode, but he preferred  carrying Starscream over shutting him away in his cargo bay.  

As time passed, Starscream's frame warmed, and melted water trickled from his plating. Some of it was blown away by the strong wind, but the rest dripped steadily onto Skyfire's armor, chilling his plating. Eventually, the sea below them was replaced by land again, and small human settlements began dotting the countryside. Silverbolt drifted closer and motioned for him to slow down. 

"I radioed ahead. Ratchet's waiting for us," Silverbolt shouted. It was still hard to hear him, but his voice carried well enough. 

Skyfire nodded, and they sped up to normal speed again. The Ark came into sight soon enough, and  several Autobots were milling around the outside of the half-buried ship. Many of them stopped to stare as they drew closer. Skyfire's  shifted his arms, trying to hide Starscream's frame. 

Ratchet was a bright spot of red and white outside the main door of the Ark. He straightened and started moving forward as soon as they came into sight. By the time their small group touched down he was already there. His gaze was focused on the small figure in Skyfire's arms, and his optics widened at the sight of Starscream's wings. 

"A Seeker?" he murmured. "Well, slag me. Been a long time since I've worked on one of those. I assume you have his schematics?" He barely waited for Skyfire's nod . "Good. I'll connect for the file transfer once we're inside. I want to start looking at him soon as possible; no telling what kind of damage we're dealing with." 

He turned and, gesturing for Skyfire to walk with him, started towards the main entrance to the ship. Halfway there, the medic grimaced. 

"Ah, slaggit, we're gonna have to deal with a Seeker with a broken trine bond." 

Skyfire looked up in surprise. Ratchet thought his trinemates were… Well, that would certainly make things simpler. It wasn't even an unreasonable assumption. Seekers had deactivated just as quickly as any other frametype, and there were few Trines left. 

So he let the comment pass. He barely remembered the rest of the walk to the med-bay. The hallways and mecha ran together in a blur of orange. When they arrived, Ratchet gestured him towards one of the medical berths and disappeared into a storage area. 

Skyfire laid Starscream down on the berth, careful not to jostle the Seeker, and sat beside his helm. Soon enough, Ratchet returned with a cluster of machines behind him. He frowned when he saw how close Skyfire had sat but didn’t comment. 

"How's the bond?" he asked 

Skyfire shook his head. "Still silent." 

Ratchet cursed under his breath and reached out behind him. Skyfire stopped him when Ratchet grabbed one of the machines he didn't recognize. 

"What's that?" 

Ratchet spared him a short glance. "Spark monitor," he explained. "It'll help get a basic reading on the energy he's giving off, figure out what's going on. Nothing invasive." 

With that, Ratchet started working, and Skyfire let him. He'd heard of spark monitors, though he'd never actually seen them. On a military outpost, monitoring equipment was a luxury. The smalls screen took up a weak yet steady rhythm as it was attached, and Ratchet made a pleased sound. 

"It doesn't look like his spark is in any immediate danger. It’s barely strong enough to sustain itself, but there aren't any fluctuations," Ratchet said. He put the machine aside, where it continued to mark the pulses of Starscream's spark.  "I'm gonna have to plug in to check his coding, make sure nothing important was slagged up from the stasis" 

Skyfire stiffened, shifting so that he was better blocking Starscream's helm. "I'll do it," he said. He didn't want Ratchet poking around in Starscream's processer. 

Ratchet gave him a skeptical look. "Skyfire, I don't think-" 

"As his bondmate, I have the right to refuse on his behalf," Skyfire interrupted, hoping Ratchet still obeyed Iacon's old medical decrees. 

Ratchet grimaced, but he stopped fiddling with the tools behind him. "Tell me you at least know what you're doing," Ratchet half-ordered, but he sounded more resigned than anything. 

"Coding is one of my specialties. I won't damage him." 

He'd once developed his own medical programs. Compared to that, checking processer coding for errors wasn't even a challenge. Skyfire shifted Starscream's arm to reach one of his medical access ports, where thinge was stiff from disuse. He eventually coaxed it open and plugged himself in. 

The link connected with a jolt, and Skyfire flinched. Starscream's processer was silent. Empty. It was unnerving, almost as if the Seeker wasn't truly alive at all. He reached out to put a hand on Starscream's chest, where the metal above his sparkchamber had warmed.  

Starscream's processer had weathered the eons far better than his frame had. The thick, resilient plating protecting his mind was second only to the armor covering his spark, and it seemed to have protected his core coding from the elements. He shifted through Starscream's processer, carefully brushing past firewalls and stray strands of code. 

As he was finishing, a muffled curse drew his attention back down to Ratchet. The medic had reached the densest region of a Seeker's frame. The area was more a snarl of metal and wire instead of the densely ordered systems it should have been. Even without the added mess, the area was one of the hardest places to repair for a Seeker due to the thickly layered wiring and circuitry. 

Before he could think about it, Skyfire reached down to hold the top layers of metal aside. Ratchet glanced up at him in surprise, fingers freezing where they were, and Skyfire met his optics with his own determination. 

"I am a trained medic," Skyfire reminded him wryly, "and I have quite a bit of experience with Seekers." 

"Then I'm sure you know why letting sparkmates, let alone bonded mecha, work on each other is a slagging terrible idea." 

Skyfire didn’t react, letting his composure speak for himself. He knew his limits. Helping fix Starscream wasn't any worse than standing idly by and staring at the damage. 

Ratchet eventually caved. "Slaggit, fine," he grumbled. "But you obey me, and if I order you to get out of the way, then you slagging well better do it." 

With that, Ratchet reached down and continued repairing the wiring he could and replacing the ones he couldn’t. For the first time in vorns, Skyfire took on the role of an assistant. He adjusted wiring and exchanged tools, doing what he could to make Ratchet's job easier. Eventually, Ratchet handed him a basic laser scalpel and he was able to remove some of the worst wires on his own. 

Skyfire paid only half a mind on the tedious work. The rest of it was focused on his spark. The bond remained terribly, achingly empty, even with Starscream right beside him. Skyfire kept up a steady, constant pressure against the block. It hurt, but it was a slow, throbbing pain, like that of a deep dent. 

Eventually, after most of the major energon lines had been reconnected, Skyfire felt it. A faint flicker against the edges of the bond, barely stronger than a memory. This time, though, it didn't fade. Skyfire took his hands out of Starscream's frame to focus on the feeling, trying to coax it closer. He wrapped himself around the faint hint of spark energy, passing as much strength into it as he could. The spark energy wavered slightly stronger and wove itself deeper into the bond. For a moment, Skyfire basked in the feeling, re-familiarizing himself with the faint eddies of a spark he'd once known as well as his own. 

The bond itself was still a wound on his spark, scarred by of old damage and disuse. He accidentally brushed against one of the tears, wincing at the sharp throb of pain it earned him. It would heal eventually-already, the raw edges were starting to smooth out-but it would be a long time before the bond was fully recovered. 

Skyfire onlined his optics, unable to remember offlining them, to find Ratchet watching him. "You can feel him now?" the medic asked 

"Yes," Skyfire whispered. "It's still faint, but it's him." 

"Good," Ratchet grunted. "Means we're doing something right, at least. Let me know immediately if it starts weakening again." 

Skyfire nodded absentmindedly, his focus already returning to Starscream and the bond. Slowly—so slowly he could barely feel it—Starscream's spark grew stronger. 

-/- 

Ratchet eventually groaned and started closing up Starscream's chest again. 

"Enough. The rest of the damage will hold until tomorrow. " He sighed. "Physically, he should be capable of onlining again. It's his spark we have to worry about, and there's nothing we can do to make that recover quicker." 

Skyfire reluctantly returned the laser scalpel. They'd only been working a few cycles, but Starscream was already looking better; his plating had warmed and color brightened as energon moved through repaired lines. Skyfire jumped at the clatter of moving metal behind him and turned to see Ironhide pushing away from where he'd been leaning against the wall. He hadn't even noticed the mech enter. 

"C'mon," Ironhide grunted, though the words were less harsh than normal. "Med-bay's closing. You can come back in the morning, but you still need to spend the night cycles in the brig." 

Skyfire froze. They were making him go back to the brig? He wanted to refuse. He couldn’t imagine letting Starscream out of his sight. He also knew that picking a fight with his guards was a poor choice, especially now. 

"There's no other option?" he tried. “I don’t want to leave him alone” 

Ironhide had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable. "Not fer this. Red's orders. 'S a security risk, an' he's already made a lotta exceptions fer ya. No sense tryin' ta push him farther." 

Skyfire brushed a hand over Starscream's still chest. He could barely feel the prickle of Starscream's spark through the layers of metal. 

"Will he be safe?" 

Ironhide nodded. "Ratchet'll still be moniterin' him. He'll know if anythin's wrong an' be back here in half a klik." 

That was somewhat reassuring. Not much—not nearly enough—but it was enough that he could force his frame into movement. He stood up and, with one last squeeze of Starscream's plating, stepped away from Starscream's berth. 

At least they didn't put the stasis cuffs on him again. Ironhide put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a light push to get started, and Skyfire let the momentum carry him into a slow walk. The door closed behind them, cutting Starscream off from sight. Skyfire shuddered but kept walking. 

Halfway there, his spark started aching again. The first spark of pain caught him by surprise, and his hand flew to his chest. Something seemed off. Starscream's presence felt weaker again, and its hold in the bond didn't seem as sturdy. Ironhide was still behind him, pushing him onward, and with every step he could feel the connection between them fading. 

Skyfire breathed deeply. Surely it was his imagination. A sensory echo, born of his own fear and paranoia. Ratchet was monitoring Starscream’s spark. He’d know if anything was actually wrong. Besides, small distances didn’t affect bonds. He’d been cities apart from Starscream before without noticing a difference. A few corridors was nothing. 

Still, Skyfire wanted nothing more than to turn around and check for himself. He could only grasp onto the faint tendrils of Starscream's spark energy and make that be enough. So long as he could still sense Starscream's spark, he'd be alright. Starscream was still there, still online, no matter how much it felt like his presence was slipping away.  

They were almost there when Skyfire stopped mid-stride. 

"I can't feel him," Skyfire whispered, half in shock. 

The weak, steady pulse of Starscream's spark in the bond was gone. 

Ironhide didn't hear him. The Autobot cursed and stumbled to a stop before he could run into him, not that Skyfire noticed. He didn't pay any attention to the other mech until Ironhide grabbed ahold of his shoulder. The movement jostled Skyfire out of his stunned immobility. 

Only one thought broke through the growing panic. He needed to get back to Starscream. Immediately. 

Skyfire jerked away from Ironhide's hand and turned back the way they'd come. Surprise lent him a moment's head start, and he managed a few running steps before he heard Ironhide take off in pursuit. 

Skyfire didn't get far before something large and heavy bowled into him from behind, sending them both tumbling to the ground. He managed to twist as he fell and gain some measure of leverage, but he didn't get far. Ironhide had experience in hand to hand combat. Skyfire had never grappled with someone his own size. Desperation allowed him to almost slip free, but then Ironhide got a hand around his neck, slamming his face into the ground. Skyfire collapsed, stunned, and by the time he recovered, he was thoroughly pinned. 

Ironhide's fingers were heavy against the vulnerable plating of his neck. Self-preservation demanded he yield. But his spark was still screaming at him to get back to his bonded. That Starscream was in danger or damaged, and the bond was far too silent. 

His spark won. He kept struggling, desperate to free himself. Ironhide pushed harder on his arm, pulling the joint up another few degrees until it started to creak and pain shot up his arm. Skyfire didn't stop; he would have let the Autobot tear the arm clear off if it meant he could get free. Ironhide stopped applying pressure before any serious damage was done, but he growled angrily as Skyfire still didn't yield. 

"Don't make me use the pulser on ya, because I will if you don't slagging-" His voice cut off with a curse, and he shifted his weight to free one arm. 

"Kinda busy right now," Ironhide grunted. He fell silent for a moment as he listened to whomever was on the other end, and the only sounds in the corridor were the loud clangs of metal on metal as Skyfire tried fruitlessly to free himself. A few kliks later, Ironhide ended the 'com call with a muffled curse. Using his other hand to hold the Shuttle even more securely to the floor, Ironhide bent down to speak directly into his audios. 

"Stop strugglin' and I'll take ya back to the med-bay." 

The words cut through the fog blanketing his processer, and Skyfire fell slack. Ironhide's heavy weight held him down for another long moment before the mech shifted and stood up. Skyfire stumbled back upright as soon as he was free. Ironhide hand remained locked around Skyfire's shoulder joint, at a spot Skyfire knew could have him on the ground and immobilized in a moment. 

"That was Ratchet," Ironhide said gruffly. "Apparently, Starscream's vitals reacted soon as you got out of range." Ironhide must have sensed the sudden spike of panic that information caused, because he quickly continued. "He wasn't in any danger. He just… wasn't recovering like he shoulda been, and Ratchet doesn't want ta risk him fallin' deeper inta stasis again." 

Skyfire didn't bother responding. He just started moving towards the med-bay again, intent on getting back to Starscream's side as quickly as possible. 

The pulse of Starscream's spark returned to the bond, and Skyfire latched on desperately to the sensation. He pushed on faster, and Ironhide allowed it with barely a grumble. As the med-bay came into sight, he almost tore through the sliding door. He made a beeline to the berth Starscream laid on, ignoring Ratchet scowling near his side. The sight of the Seeker made something in his spark finally unclench enough for him to think clearly again. 

In the corner of his vision, he could see Ironhide ambling over to Ratchet, and both of them moved a few steps away from Starscream's berth for some privacy. Their conversation carried across the silent room. 

"Red Alert's not gonna be happy 'bout this," Ironhide told Ratchet. 

"He's gonna have to deal with it then. The Seeker's my patient now, and I'll be slagged if I let any mech frag with his recovery." 

"Yer choice. Yer the one that's gonna have ta deal with him." 

Ratchet snorted. "I'll manage." 

They lapsed back into silence, at least until Ratchet opened up a 'com channel and began a rather heated argument with whom Skyfire assumed was Red Alert. Skyfire tuned him out, trusting Ratchet would eventually bludgeon the Security Director into submission. He must have succeeded, because the call ended after a few breems and nobody tried to drag Skyfire out of the med-bay again. Not that Skyfire would have left a second time. 

Ratchet eventually scanned Starscream one last time before leaving the med-bay. The lock snapped into place as the door slid closed behind him. Ironhide remained behind. He pulled up a chair by the med-bay doors and collapsed into it to stand guard. Once Ironhide was settled, he was easy enough to ignore. 

Much as he would have liked to stand vigil over Starscream the entire night, Skyfire still needed to recharge. He grabbed the closest free medical berth and dragged it closer until it was flush with Starscream's berth. When he laid down, he made sure he was between Starscream and the rest of the room. Skyfire fell asleep to the sight of Starscream's lax frame an arm's length away and the soft hum of machinery watching over them. 

-/- 

As an unwilling guest of the Autobots, Skyfire hadn’t heard any news of the war since his capture. In the brig, the war had felt distant, like he’d been sheltered from its effects. The med-bay was different. He and Starscream had been isolated in the back of the room, but it was still active. Mecha came in for treatment, bearing deep dents and wounds from battle.  

Skyfire learned to ignore them. He eventually grew used to the sound of mecha moving around behind him, though he tensed whenever one came too close. Especially when they stopped to stare. When he heard somebody approach, Skyfire stiffened, flaring his wings to cover Starscream's frame. 

He relaxed slightly when he recognized who it was. Fireflight. Skyfire checked his face and frame carefully for any sign of anger or dislike, but he only found an open curiosity as he stared at Starscream. 

"He's really a Seeker," Fireflight breathed, taking a step closer. He reached out a hand as if to touch Starscream's wing before pulling it back with a sheepish grin. 

Unexpectedly, Skyfire found himself returning it. It seemed like the younglings—or at least Fireflight—had a case of hero worship. He wondered whether it extended to other Seekers. For a handful of winglings surrounded by Grounders, he wouldn’t be surprised. Skywarp in particular would find the whole thing hilarious.  

"Can he fly well?" Fireflight asked. 

"Better than anyone else I've ever known," Skyfire answered honestly. 

Fireflight's optics lit up in delight. "Really? Can I talk to him when he onlines? Please?" 

"You'll have to ask him, but, if you're superior officers don't disapprove, I don't see any reason why Starscream would turn you down." 

He would grumble about it, sure, but Starscream had always harbored a well-hidden fondness for younglings. He’d need little convincing to speak with the mecha or give them flying tips. Particularly after he found out the mecha were being raised exclusively by grounders. Starscream would have a conniption over that little fact. 

Across the med-bay, Ratchet started yelling at someone, and Fireflight jerked, looking over his shoulder nervously. Skyfire took in the nervous flicker of his wingtips and, a dawning suspicion formed 

"Are you supposed to be here?" he asked, hoping the answer was yes but not really expecting it to be. 

Fireflight flinched and glanced down at his hands. "Well, technically. Wheeljack asked me to pick up a few spare parts for him. He's working on building a new joint for Sideswipe since his got all messed up yesterday." 

"You should finish your task before someone comes looking for you then." 

"Uh… yeah, probably. They're used to me getting distracted and wandering away for a bit. I always remember and get it done eventually though!" Fireflight sounded very proud of himself. He grinned cheerfully and turned around, making his way towards a storage area at the back of the med-bay. 

Skyfire watched him go with a rather bemused smile. The youngling would probably be back when he got the opportunity, and Skyfire found he didn't mind the idea. He had been a welcome, if rather strange, distraction from his thoughts. 

Reaching down, he laid one hand on Starscream's helm. It was warm now, pulsing with life and energy. All his major systems were finished and healthy, though sections of his outer limbs still needed attention. The bond had strengthened with him. It almost felt like the Seeker was just asleep now. Skyfire had outright refused to test it, but he was fairly certain he could go anywhere in the Ark without losing touch with Starscream's spark again. 

Now, Starscream just needed to wake up. After so many millennia in stasis, there was no telling when he would or what would trigger it. He could only hope it would happen soon. 

-/- 

Skyfire shouldn't have been surprised that, when Starscream finally onlined, he did so violently and at the worst possible time. After all, the Seeker had never been one to take the calm, easy route when he could cause the most chaos possible instead. 

Ratchet had opened up Starscream's arm to fix some errors in the joint. Old, rusted parts were strewn alongside their replacements on the berth, and Starscream's arm was bared from almost hand to shoulder. 

There was no middle ground, no gradual shift as Starscream onlined for the first time. Skyfire had barely an astrosecond to register a change in the bond before Starscream jerked into motion. Red optics snapped on, and Starscream wasted no time in struggling at the sight of an unfamiliar mech looming above him. Ratchet let out a startled oath as his hand was yanked. Then Starscream was scrambling to get away while Ratchet cursed and tried to pin the Seeker before he could tear his internals to shreds again. 

Meanwhile, Skyfire couldn't seem to move. Feeling Starscream, offline and unaware, across the bond was nothing compared to the riot of sensation when he onlined. Skyfire could only stare, entranced, until Ratchet snapped at him to get over and help him, slaggit. Ratchet had managed to pin Starscream's exposed arm and part of his chest to the berth, but the rest of his frame was free and Starscream was making full use of it, flailing and scratching wildly at his surroundings. Leaning around Ratchet, Skyfire took ahold of his free arm. Bright red optics flickered over his frame without recognition. 

"Calm yourself, Starscream," Skyfire ordered, simultaneously reaching out through the bond. He immediately hit a wall of panicked confusion, and he sent a wave of calmness back. Starscream stilled at the familiar mental touch, his optics sharpening on Skyfire's face, and the panic began to recede. 

As soon as Starscream stopped struggling, Ratchet untangled his hand and stepped away, giving them some small measure of privacy. Skyfire spared him a brief, grateful thought, but most of his processer was focused on his bondmate staring up at him. 

"Skyfire?" Starscream asked. "Wha- what's going on? The storm-" 

"Over," Skyfire answered. He let Starscream's arms go, moving back slightly, when he was sure the Seeker was calm. He still kept one hand against Starscream's plating to feel the steady thrum of his systems. "You were buried under the ice and sent into forced stasis. It's only been an orn since we were able to free you." 

Starscream tried to push himself up, but Skyfire carefully pressed him back into the berth. "Don't move. You were injured." 

Starscream sent a light spike of annoyance at him, but he didn't try to sit up again. He lifted his hand, and Skyfire had to stop him from prodding the exposed wires in his arm. An almost painful rush of fondness filled Skyfire's spark; this was familiar, this was Starscream, acting exactly the same as he had back when they were scientists. He wanted to... he didn't know what he wanted to do, but just watching Starscream, moving and healthy was enough to make his spark overflow with emotion. 

"How long was I out?" Stasrcream asked  glancing around the room. He seemed to relax at the familiar Cybertronian design, and he brushed some of the spare parts away from his frame with a grimace. "And where'd you find the med-bay? I didn't think there were any inhabited planets in this sector." 

Skyfire flinched at the question. He had no intention of trying to hide what had happened. Pit, even if he wanted to, it would be impossible. Just- not yet. Not when Starscream had just woken up and Skyfire was just barely holding on. 

"Skyfire?" Starscream repeated. He sent a questioning probe across the connection, looking for the answer, but Skyfire repelled the curious touch. A muted sense of frustration and confusion trickle to him at the light block, but Starscream didn't try to force his way through. Instead, there was a brief sense of surprise, then Starscream's presence fanned out to investigate the bond itself. 

It wasn't long before muffled waves of shock and horror pressed against his spark. Starscream had found the deep wounds and knotted scars that suffused the connection, and Skyfire still didn't know what to say. 

Starscream's horrified voice filled his processer. "Skyfire, how long was I-" 

Skyfire cut him off. "The mech you knocked away is called Ratchet," he said, not meeting his partner's optics. "He's the building's medic. He was fixing some of the systems that had been damaged during your time in stasis when you onlined." 

Starscream glared at him, annoyance lapping at Skyfire's mind. He was saved from an argument as Ratchet stepped closer again; the unfamiliar presence drew Starscream's attention and suspicion, and Skyfire knew that the Seeker wouldn't discuss anything personal with a stranger listening in. 

"Fine," Starscream spat at Skyfire. "But don't think for a klik that I've forgotten about this." 

"I wouldn't expect anything less." 

And despite everything else—the way Starscream glared at Ratchet, the uncertain future facing them, the knowledge that Starscream was going to ambush him for answers as soon as they were alone—Skyfire smiled. Because Starscream was here, alive and vibrant and familiar, and for now that was all that mattered. 

~.*.~ 

AN: Fun fact! That last scene was one of the first I ever wrote. I remember scribbling it down during AP government class. Plus the earlier scene where Skyfire called Ratchet a glitch. Man, I had fun with those. And it was such a boring class. I think I still have that beat up notebook somewhere. 

 


	18. Memories

Ratchet spent the following breems finishing his work on Starscream, and Skyfire spent the entire time fending off Starscream's attempts to move deeper into his spark. He let their surface emotions mix, but he brushed Starscream away every time he tried to trace them deeper. Starscream's frustration followed him, and Skyfire could feel a burning curiosity take root. He winced. Once Starscream fixated on something, he never let it go. 

Only a cycle after he woke up, Starscream started to slow, though he tried to fight his exhaustion through sheer force of will. Skyfire knew he should encourage him to rest, but the words wouldn't come. Starscream had just woken up. What if he went back into stasis? Logically, that wouldn't happen—Starscream had healed too much to fall back down—but Skyfire was having trouble thinking logically. 

After the second time Starscream nearly fell into recharge and flailed himself back online again, Ratchet snapped. 

Slamming a microwelder down on a cart, Ratchet snarled, "Just relax before you slag up your circuits again! Your frame isn't used to functioning at full power yet." 

Starscream grimaced and opened his mouth to argue. Skyfire cut him off before he could get started. "It's alright," he said, gently pushing Starscream back down onto the berth. "I'll still be here when you wake up again." 

Starscream stayed where Skyfire had guided him, which was as good as an agreement from him. And not a moment too soon; the effects of his exhaustion were already hitting him full-force, and his optics began to flicker. 

"You better," Starscream managed to say, but his voice was already fading. Starscream's consciousness brushed against his one last time-a flicker of trust and worry and reluctant acquiescence-before fading into unconsciousness. Skyfire didn't pull away from the bond. He stayed, letting the subdued, combined pulse of their sparks wash over him. 

-/- 

Ratchet left them alone as soon as he packed up his kit. Skyfire spent the next few breems just sitting there. Not thinking, not planning, just existing. Pretending, he supposed, that nothing had changed and he was just a mech watching over his recharging bondmate, without any war or grief or ethical dilemmas to complicate it. It was a fragile illusion, and he let it fade as soon as he heard someone approaching their corner. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Skyfire wasn't surprised at all to find Jazz standing there. He turned to face the Saboteur, though he kept one hand pressed against Starscream's side. 

"I want you to leave Starscream out of this," Skyfire said. "No questions, no manipulations, nothing." He wouldn't let Starscream become just another pawn in this war. The Seeker deserved better than that. 

Jazz laughed. Skyfire felt faintly insulted. 

"How does a mech like you end up as a 'Con," Jazz mused, still chuckling. "An Iacon mech, calm, bonded… A'course the first words outta yer mouth are ta protect him." He picked up one of the pieces of scrap scattered nearby, spinning it idly in his hands "Don't worry. Nothin's gonna happen ta yer bondmate. Trust me, we all want this ta go smoothly. 'Sides, he's a Neutral. The last Neutral, probably. Nobody's gonna hurt him. 

"Neutrality doesn't necessarily mean safety, particularly when one has connections to the 'Cons," he countered. 

Unbidden, his thoughts drifted back to the distant past, back before he'd been an official Decepticon. He'd befriended-not even bonded to-Decepticon Seekers, and he’d nearly been deactivated. 

Jazz tilted his head, and his remaining mirth evaporated. "Ya speaking from experience?" he asked. 

Skyfire said nothing, but his hand tightened against the berth. Jazz's visor followed the small movement, and Skyfire could practically see the gears turning. 

"Ya know," Jazz started. "I remember what Iacon was like early on, when Sentinel and the old Council were still in charge. Could be a real hostile place for a mech who didn't fit in. An' a mech sympathetic towards Seekers woulda been strange indeed." 

Skyfire purposefully didn't look at Jazz. The past was supposed to stay buried. That part of his life held enough scars, grief, and betrayal to last a lifetime; he didn't need a reminder. 

"Does this have any bearing on the current situation?" he asked tightly 

Jazz seemed to have realized he'd hit a limit. He backed off. "Nah. I guess not." 

He straightened, stretching the kinks out of his arms with a graceful twist. The piece of scrap he'd been toying with was thrown unceremoniously back on the berth. 

"Anyway," he said cheerfully, regaining his previous humor. "I'm bettin' that neither of ya are gonna be wanting to say in the med-bay for much longer. It's a bit too open for comfort, don't ya think?" He encompassed the room, with all its wide open space and empty berths, with a sweeping gesture. "Ratchet's declared yer bondmate stable enough ta be moved ta a different location, an' the Higher Ups have agreed ta let ya stay in an actual room. Red took some convincin' an' ya'll still be under heavy guard, but it's a fair 'nough deal." 

Skyfire was immediately suspicious. Nothing was free, especially not to prisoners. "What will that room cost?" he asked. 

Jazz shrugged. "Just yer cooperation. Simple enough." 

And by that, Jazz meant upholding the deal he'd made with the Prime. Simple, he supposed, but not easy. He wondered if that meant he'd been officially upgraded from prisoner to informant. 

"When can we go?" he asked. 

“If yer up ta it, I can bring ya both ta yer new quarters now. Let ya have a bit of privacy ta talk fer the next time he wakes up." 

"That would be appreciated." 

Skyfire stood up, reaching for his bondmate. Starscream was as light as he remembered, and he fit easily into his arms. Jazz, thankfully, let the walk through the Ark happen in silence. No more prodding questions or knowledgeable looks. Just a quiet, uncomplicated journey that took them through almost empty halls. 

Jazz stopped in a quiet hallway not far from the brig. Shifting so that his frame blocked the number pad, he inputted a long string of digits, and the door slid open. Jazz gestured for Skyfire to enter. 

The room itself was as good as could be expected. It was small, likely some old storage area, but it had berths big enough for the both of them and a few standard chairs. At first glance, he couldn't see any cameras, though he knew they had to be hidden somewhere. Skyfire cared more about the solid, lockable door between them and the rest of the ship. 

Skyfire carefully set Starscream down on the nearest berth, arranging his wings so they lay flat beneath him. When he turned around, Jazz had already soundlessly left. Skyfire pulled up a chair and resumed his vigil by Starscream's side. 

Time passed in silence, and Skyfire was left with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him. Eventually, his processer started pinging him with his need to recharge, but Skyfire found he couldn't engage the protocols yet.  

The berth rustled as Starscream shifted in his sleep. His face crinkled as he made a soft, unhappy sound, and Skyfire reached down to smooth the tense lines away. Starscream settled down quickly. Skyfire didn't move his hand, instead keeping it resting lightly against Starscream's cheek.  

Even now, with Starscream solid beneath his hand and the bond warm and healing, he could barely believe it was real. His breath caught, and he shuddered, holding Starscream tighter. Getting Starscream back wasn't supposed to hurt, but it did. A deep ache that seemed to hollow out his chest, as if reigniting the bond had used up all the strength he had left. 

He'd mourned for Starscream for decavorns. The pain of Starscream's deactivation had been an old ache, scarred over by time: a part of him just as much as the sparkbond. Having Starscream back couldn't erase half a lifetime of grief and absence. It didn't replace the fact that he'd abandoned his bondmate and then failed to return for him. 

Starscream made a soft, wordless noise, and his spark slowly drifted towards awareness. Skyfire jerked his hand away and sent calming pulses at the Seeker.  Starscream's half-conscious spark reached back, twining easily with his emotions, and the Seeker hummed contentedly. Annoyance and the slight, itching pin of integrating parts echoed over the sparkbond. Stretching luxuriously, he onlined his optics and glanced curiously around him. 

His face crinkled in confusion when he noticed Skyfire staring at him and his mouth opened—probably to say something snarky-but the words died on his lips. Concern burst across the bond as he pushed himself upright, and he deepened the bond, trying to feel for whatever had upset him. Skyfire flinched away from the mental touch. 

"I-sorry. I should have-" he stammered. He couldn't find the words to explain what he'd wanted, so he pulled away. He tried to turn, but an iron grip on his wrist stopped him. Starscream. 

"Don't block me out. Not again," Starscream commanded, voice still rough with sleep. "You're hiding something. Tell me what's wrong." 

The words were accompanied by a pulse against the blocks he'd put up. Skyfire could have easily forced Starscream to let go, but he didn’t. He offlined his optics, feeling like the worst kind of coward. A hand, then two, brushed against his face before pulling his frame downward. He onlined his optics to see Starscream looking intently at him, 

"Show me." he said. The constant, gentle pressure lingered against the block. 

Skyfire tried to retreat, to push everything away again until he could deal with it on his own, but Starscream didn't let him. He followed, though he didn't try to force his way deeper than Skyfire allowed. He was just there: waiting, worried, almost gentle. 

Skyfire broke. 

With a pained, almost desperate sound, Skyfire lurched forward. He didn't think, didn't even know what he was going to do. He just knew that, in that moment, he needed the physical contact. Needed the reassurance that Starscream was still online and there like he needed energon. Starscream stiffened in surprise, but he didn't pull away. Eventually, his hands  came up hesitantly to return the embrace. 

Skyfire clutched Starscream to him, almost hard enough to dent plating. Starscream felt so small, almost delicate compared to him. The Seeker had never been reinforced for war. He had the thin, flexible plating of a Flyer, and Skyfire could feel the whirl of circuitry and machinery hidden below. Starscream started brushing his hands along Skyfire's plating in soothing strokes, and Skyfire almost sobbed in-relief? Pain? Joy? He couldn't tell. 

His emotions were such a tangled mess that he didn't know where to start to unravel them. Guilt that he'd left Starscream stasis-ridden and alone for millennia. Relief that his bondmate hadn't endured the unending war that had crippled their race. Fear of how Starscream would react once he realized all that he'd missed. And above all, a cripplingly intense wonder that he had his sparkmate back, alive and healthy. 

Starscream was right there with him, acknowledging each emotion and trying to pull Skyfire away from the most painful ones. Eventually, Skyfire was able to use his steady, constant presence as an anchor to start pulling himself back together. It took a moment for Skyfire to come back to himself long enough to understand what Starscream was saying: words of comfort that fit awkwardly in his mouth intermixed with violent threats towards whoever had hurt him. Skyfire choked on a sound that was half laugh, half sob. 

Eventually, the tremors started to slow, and the tumulus whirl of his spark calmed. He felt wrung out in its absence but not quite so brittle as before. When the worst was over and Skyfire was limp against his bondmate, he felt Starscream shift underneath him. Skyfire automatically tightened his grip, but the Seeker didn't try to pull free. Instead, Starscream shuffled further across the berth, tugging Skyfire along with him. It took some maneuvering, but Skyfire eventually found himself lying beside Starscream, pressing the Seeker between himself and the wall. 

It was a tight fit. It made Skyfire think of their exploring days, when they'd often recharge curled against each other for warmth or safety or comfort. So he tucked Starscream against his chest, curling around him until he had the Seeker entirely covered. Only then did he feel safe. Nothing could hurt Starscream like this, not without going through him first, and he would never let that happen. Not again. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he sunk into recharge. 

-/- 

Skyfire onlined slower than he had in millennia. His frame felt heavy, relaxed and pleasantly lethargic. Something warm was loosely encircled in his arms, and he shifted closer. A pair of wings, folded back out of the way, brushed against his hand, and reality crashed back. Skyfire snapped his optics online to find Starscream already awake and watching him. 

"What are you hiding from me?" he asked. It wasn't an accusation, though it easily could have been. It was simply a question, yet it was more powerful than any anger could have been. 

"Not hiding," Skyfire objected. "I just… don't know how to tell you." 

He could feel Starscream's annoyance building up again, so he let Starscream see the truth of that statement. He had no slagging clue what to say. 

Starscream huffed, but the annoyance subsided. "How about you start with where we are," he prompted. 

It was as good a place as any to begin. "We're still on the planet. Haven't left," Skyfire said. 

Starscream looked up at him, head tilted in confusion. "Where'd all this come from then?" he asked, gesturing around at the room. "The planet was supposedly uninhabited. This is pretty shoddy craftsmanship-probably won't even last a few vorns-but it's obviously Cybertronian. It would have taken a while to get permission for the build, especially since they brought an actual medic." 

Skyfire let out a heavy, shuddering breath and pulled the Seeker closer. "You missed a lot," he said quietly. "It's been more than enough time for that. I… I thought you deactivated. I couldn't feel you anymore, and by the time the energon ran out I couldn't sense anything below the ice. I eventually returned to Cybertron alone." 

He had to pause as emotion choked his vocalizer. His voice was still rough when he was able to continue. "If I'd known you were still alive, I wouldn't have stopped. I would have fought to come back, but I-" He'd thought there'd been nothing to come back for. "I'm sorry," he finished weakly, knowing the words were far too inadequate to express the depths of his regret. 

Starscream patted his arm awkwardly, more worried about watching him lose control again than the missed time he couldn't even remember. "It's alright. I know you. You wouldn't have left if you had any other option." He frowned. "And I shouldn't have been so slagging careless to get caught in that storm, let alone crash." He spat out the word as if it was a curse, which to him it might as well have been. 

That should have been Skyfire's cue to tease him about his admittedly well-deserved pride in his flying—an old joke turned tradition-but Skyfire couldn't bring himself to make light of the situation. 

Of course, Starscream noticed. "That's not all, is it?," he stated more than asked. "Something else happened, more than just leaving me in the ice for a while. Something important. What is it?" 

"I couldn't come back to recover you right away," Skyfire admitted. "I- wasn't fit for another expedition, and energy shortages became more common. Then… there was a war. A civil war, one we're still fighting. That's what this place is: a military base." 

Starscream stiffened, wings flaring out in surprise. "A civil war?" he breathed, shaking his head in astonishment. He recovered his equilibrium quickly, buffering his more vulnerable emotions with a familiar bravado. "With the way the Council was acting it's not that surprising. Either the Council needed to get their heads out of their afts, or somebody was gonna do something to stop them. I wouldn't have thought it would take full out war though." He paused, eyeing Skyfire with sharp optics. "But if this is a military base, then what are you doing here?" 

Skyfire glanced away self-consciously. "Your Trine joined the rebellion relatively early in the war. Eventually, I was forced to join as well." He stopped, waiting for the fireworks. He wasn't disappointed. 

"You?" Starscream spluttered. The Seeker stared at him as if he'd just declared his undying love for interpretive dance. "You joined a war? But you're a pacifist! Pit, you're practically the definition of a pacifist!" 

"Eventually, staying neutral wasn't an option anymore." 

"But you-" 

"It wasn't an option, Starscream," Skyfire interrupted a bit harsher than he would have liked. Starscream fell silent, staring at him in surprise. 

Skyfire took a deep breath, and he managed to continue more calmly. "Thankfully, I wasn't forced to be a warrior. After your trinemates started showing up with  untreated damage, I learned the basics of healing so I could help them. Skywarp and Thundercracker later helped me get a position as a medic.". 

Starscream's surprise had faded into thoughtfulness. At least he'd stopped looking at him as if he was a stranger. "I probably shouldn't be surprised that you took up medicine," he mused. "It fits you. But why would they come to a backwater planet like this one? I mean, it's not like this place could possibly be a strategic location, and-" He stopped, optics flaring in realization. "The energy. That's why. They were already struggling with energon production before the expedition. No way a war didn't make that worse." 

Starscream felt so pleased with himself at figuring it out that Skyfire couldn't help but smile. "You're right. A major energy crisis was one of the problems that started the whole war. The Prime managed to find records of our expedition. He took his flagship and Command Staff to gather the energy resources, and the Decepticons-the other faction-followed. Right now, the planet's probably the biggest battleground left." 

Starscream gave a soft noise of acknowledgement. His optics unfocused, and he stared off in thought, A few kliks later, he abruptly turned back to Skyfire with a sharp gleam in his optics. 

"I want to see," he said. His intentions were clear over the bond, leaving no room for misinterpretation. 

Skyfire winced at the thought. "It's not… pleasant," he said. An understatement if there ever was one. 

Undeterred, Starscream gave him a flat look. "That's why I need to see. You joined an army without me. I need to know what happened, and if I just ask you you'll gloss over all the important parts." 

Skyfire reluctantly agreed. Without a word, he shifted so that he could bring the data port hidden under the plating of his arm into view. Starscream quickly did the same, then popped it open and unspooled the thin cable inside. He held out the tip and fixed Skyfire with an expectant look. 

Looking at the small cable, Skyfire hesitated. It had been a long time since he'd voluntarily let someone into his processer. Medical access ports were different; they were designed to allow medics' access without needing to lower any firewalls. This was far more personal. It was lowering your firewalls to let someone into your processer, where they could freely access memory files and core coding. 

Still… he trusted Starscream, spark and processer. It still took more effort than it should have to actually reach down and expose his data port for the connection. 

Starscream plugged them together, and the physical world took a backseat to the incorporeal. Starscream swept into his processer like he belonged among the code, which Skyfire supposed wasn't too far from the truth. They'd never shared memories often, but it had been perfectly normal even before they bonded. 

Time hadn't stolen the familiarity between their frames, and their processers melded together easily. Skyfire could feel the constant undercurrent of each thought being formed and he knew that, if he wanted to, he could trace each one back to its source and feel whatever emotion, memory, or bit of code had led to its formation. 

Starscream immediately made his way to Skyfire's memory cache, and Skyfire guided him the rest of the way to the files he wanted. It had been a long time, but he easily found the memories that marked the beginning of his involvement in the war, skipping past the first, mind-numbing vorns of grief after the disastrous expedition. 

Starscream brushed briefly across the events leading up to the war: the worsening energy problems, the growing distrust towards military and air frames, and all the other subtle signs that events were spiraling towards a climax. Starscream nearly skipped over the first Decepticon rally he'd attended as well, but Skyfire pulled him back. He wanted Starscream to see Megatron the way he'd been at the beginning: charming, captivating, grandiose. He let Starscream see the nobility of his cause and the reason why so many had flocked to his side. He also showed Starscream the ineffable sense of wrongness that the rally had left him with. 

The next few centuries garnered only a few brief clips of memory, more impression than anything: his worry over Skywarp and Thundercracker and subsequent foray into medicine. Starscream very nearly stopped when he came across the vast stores of medical knowledge Skyfire had accumulated over the war, but Skyfire pulled him further ahead with promises of more important memories. He'd let Starscream investigate his medical knowledge later, if he was still interested. 

He shared Starscream's horror when the Autobots caught up with them in his Iacon quarters. Those memory files were slightly fragmented from the damage he'd received, which only made it worse. Starscream could feel how close Skyfire had come to deactivation that orn and then how desperate he'd been after they'd escaped and found nobody they could trust to repair his injuries. For the first time, Starscream faltered in his search. The burning curiosity was fading, though his determination to understand what had happened remained. 

After that, there was only the war. Skyfire did what he could to shield Starscream from the worst of it, but he couldn't hide how bad it had been. How many mecha had died under his care and how many more had deactivated out on the battlefield. The way their entire planet had been slowly engulfed and then fallen apart piece by piece.  

Iacon was the worst. Skyfire tried to skip over the fall of their old home, but Starscream didn't let him. He watched every astrosecond Skyfire had of the Academy's collapse and Iacon's destruction. Grief and disbelief radiated from his spark, but the memory files didn't lie. Iacon had burned. Their old home, the crown jewel of Cybertron, had fallen, leaving only ash and hollowed metal skeletons to mark what had once been Cybertron's largest city. 

When the memory finished, Skyfire tugged them both away from his memory bank. 

"That's enough for now," he said aloud. He knew it was bad when Starscream didn't even try to argue. Skyfire gently disconnected them from each other, spooling the cables back under their armor and closing off the data ports. 

Starscream didn't move from where he'd been lying during the memory share. If anything, he'd curled even closer, burying his face against Skyfire's armor. His frame shuddered once, and Skyfire tried to sooth him with long strokes down his back. It was a long while before Starscream was able to gather himself enough to speak. His helm stayed pressed against Skyfire's chest, as if blocking out the rest of the world would make the news easier to hear. 

"How many," he whispered, voice rough with emotion. "How many of the cities are gone?" 

Skyfire held Starscream tighter, as if that would make the news easier to hear. 

"All of the major ones. Most of the smaller ones as well. The rest of them have either been converted to a military base or abandoned." Mostly abandoned. They hadn't built their cities to withstand war, and anyplace a mecha couldn't defend himself was a target. Better abandoned than destroyed, he supposed, but it was a bitter comfort. 

Starscream shuddered. "And how many people have deactivated?" 

It was a question that still haunted Skyfire's recharge cycles. "I don't even know anymore. We stopped keeping track of the death toll a long time ago. There's only a few dozen of us here on Earth, and we've been out of contact with Cybertron for megavorns." 

Starscream jerked in his arms. When Skyfire didn't let him go, he twisted so that he could meet the Shuttle's optics. "But-that can't be right! How could you lose track like that unless-" His vocalizer fizzled into static as realization hit. His voice was quieter, stunned when he continued. "There's not many of us left." 

Skyfire shook his head, unable to deny it. Even the most optimistic prediction still left the vast majority of their race deactivated. At worst? It was very possible they were facing extinction, and the possibility grew more likely every orn the war continued. 

Starscream shook his head in denial. "Why didn't anyone stop it?" he asked, voice breaking. "This- this is even worse than what they were trying to fix. At least then they were online and Cybertron was still-" His voice stuttered, and grief flared in his spark. 

"I know." he said quietly. It was the only thing he could say, really; with something like this, nothing could help. Only time could do that, and even then the scars would never truly fade. Silence reigned for a time before Starscream broke it. 

"I want my Trine," Starscream said quietly, curled in on himself. In that moment, he sounded painfully young. "Where are they?" 

"You mean you can't feel them?" he blurted out 

The flagship wasn't that far away from the Ark. Their trinebond shouldn't have any problem connecting-and Primus, he didn't even want to think about how Skywarp and Thundercracker were going to react. His spark must be weaker than Skyfire had thought. 

Starscream's face crinkled in confusion. "Should I be able to?" he asked. "I thought- Aren't they still on Cybertron?" 

Slag. Skyfire braced himself said, "Don't panic, ok?" He waited for Starscream's nod before continuing. "They're here, on Earth" 

Starscream jerked in his arms "What?" he yelped. "They're on planet? Why can't I feel them?" He dove down in his spark, feeling for the anchor where the trine bond lay. His voice grew higher, almost hysterical when he found it empty. "I can't feel them at all. It's like they're not even-" 

Skyfire could feel panic forming, and he rushed to reassure him. "Calm down, it's alright. They're both undamaged." he said "Like I said, your spark was very weak when we found you. At first, I wasn't able to feel your presence at all, but you grew stronger with the repairs. I'm sure that's all it is. They'll be back soon." 

The reassurance didn't seem to help. If anything, Starscream only seemed even more bewildered. "That shouldn't be possible. Bonds don't do that." He paused, and Skyfire could feel him reaching out towards the edges of the bond, where the scars and neglect were still visible. "Is that what happened to our bond?" 

Skyfire nodded. "It's been getting better since I got you back. Healing." He sent a reassuring pulse to Starscream, hoping he'd notice how much the ragged edges had already started to smooth since he'd first awoken. "The bond will go back to normal " 

He could feel that Starscream didn't quite believe him. No words could overcome the feel of an empty bond. This time, it was his turn to hold Starscream together as he mourned. 

   
 

 


	19. Changing Tides

 

He stayed with Starscream until the Seeker slipped back offline. His frame needed the time to heal, though even recharge couldn't completely stop the tumulus roll of emotions in his spark. Skyfire stood guard as he slept, doing what little he could to calm the worst of it. 

They continued sharing memories when Starscream was conscious. Starscream had missed so much during his megavorns of stasis, more than Skyfire could ever show him, but he was determined to give Starscream back as much as he could.  

He showed Starscream his trinemates: the way they'd changed and grown over the vorns and how the war had affected them. Many of the changes were subtle things: a sharper sense of humor, dark moods and pensive silences after battles, a well-earned distrust of strangers. They were still the same people, but war had sharpened their hard edges and worn away at any lingering softness.  

At some point, Starscream nudged at him to show parts of himself as well, and Skyfire couldn't deny him. So he let Starscream see the peace he'd found in repairing mecha of non-lethal damage, and the grim satisfaction he'd taken in pulling mecha back from the brink of deactivation. His reluctant acquiescence to being armed and learning how to fight as well as his relief that he hadn't yet needed to use that training on another Cybertronian. 

He would have given Starscream only the good memories, but the Seeker wouldn't let him avoid all the darker moments. So many memories were somehow tainted by the war. Lingering battle damage would mar an otherwise peaceful moment, or memories of the Seeker's accomplishments would be tied together with the battles that had led to them. Starscream didn't always notice the subtle marks of the war, but when he did he'd focus on them, tugging the memory in a darker direction. Sometimes Skyfire could distract him again, but other times the Seeker insisted on seeing the memory through. 

The battlefields. Lost patients. The constant, familiar fear every time Skywarp and Thundercracker flew out to another battle. The destruction from the constant fighting, and the slow deterioration of their homeworld. 

The clips of Vos's fall had been some of the hardest. The city hadn't been their home, but it had belonged to Skywarp and Thundercracker. And it had been _beautiful._ _T_ he towering spires had stretched higher and thinner than any other city, marking out flight lanes and humming with the lives of millions of Seekers. And the Council had ordered it crashing down. Starscream watched the clips in stony silence, but he wasn't able to completely hide his pain. 

Starscream spend most of the time offline, recovering, but gradually his periods of consciousness grew longer. At some point, Starscream tugged the second berth flush against his own so they could comfortably lie side by side. Even in recharge, Starscream sought out the physical contact, pressing against him and clutching at his plating as if he were the last real thing left in the universe. 

   
-/-

Skyfire was yanked out of a light doze when Starscream jerked hard enough to slam his plating against the wall behind him. 

" _Slag!"_ Starscream cried out, hands going to his helm with a pained grimace. His wings rattled against the wall behind him. Starscream didn't even seem to notice, though his wings had to be aching fiercely. Instead, he curled inwards around his spark even as his hands cradled his helm. 

Skyfire shot up in alarm, and his hands flashed out to steady him. "Starscream?" he asked, but the Seeker shook his head mutely, still clutching his helm. 

Cautiously, Skyfire reached across the bond to try to feel what was wrong. He flinched away when he felt the first intense pulses of emotion before gently pressing forward again. Something didn't feel right. It only took a moment of searching to figure out why: all the strongest emotions he was feeling-the panic, disbelief, desperation-wasn't coming from Starscream. 

The trinebond had finally reconnected. 

Skyfire backed off, unwilling to intrude, though he stayed wrapped loosely against Starscream's spark, supporting him as best he could. The first few kliks were the worst. The trinebond had to be as weak as his own partner bond was, but the two Seekers had wrenched it wide open at the first hint of Starscream's spark. Skyfire couldn't blame them. 

Skyfire gently stroked Starscream's wings. He didn't merit an iota of interest from the Seekers. All he could do was watch and wait for them to calm down, doing what little he could to help Starscream. Despite his worry, he couldn't help but feel some curiosity. 

So that was what the Skywarp and Thundercracker felt like. 

He'd gotten brief hints of the other's sparks back before the war, when Starscream had connected the four of them together, but it had never been more than a vague impression of their personalities. Now, though, the three Seekers were only separated by a few hics, and the trinebond was opened as wide as possible.  

The first presence felt steady. Deliberate. Deep currents of thought flowed just out of reach, and his spark-signature echoed with impressions of his core spark-traits. A consuming need to protect and a temper that burned slow but fierce. He was quiet nights flying among the stars and companionable silence after a storm. _Thundercracker_ _._  

Which meant the second one was Skywarp. His spark was wilder than his trinemate's. No less complex, but almost whimsical, with thoughts like quicksilver instead of steel. He was the rush of air at the height of a steep dive and bright laughter in a quiet room. An irrepressible sense of humor that occasionally bordered on cruel, and a fierce joy in life. Even like this, he could feel how the three Seeker's sparks would mix, complementing each other and balancing out their more extreme traits. 

It was almost a full breem before Starscream gained control of himself enough to speak semi-coherently. Finally, Starscream relaxed, and the grimace of pain slowly faded from his features. 

"Better?" Skyfire asked. 

"Yeah." Starscream said. "They calmed down." Then he turned his glare on him. "Skyfire…" he said deceptively softly. "Mind telling me why my Trinemates just _panicked_ when they felt my presence in the bond?" 

Skyfire winced at his tone. Starscream was _pissed_. 

"Remember when I mentioned the war had brought everyone to this planet?" he said. Starscream nodded impatiently, and Skyfire continued. "Well, there was a... _complication_ that separated us. Unfortunately, I have been out of contact with your Trine since before discovering that you were still online. Up until now, they would have believed you deactivated." He glanced up just in time to see Starscream's stricken face. 

"You mean to tell me you let my _Trine_ think tha- _ah._ " Starscream cut himself off with a loud hiss of pain. His hands flew to his head again as the trinebond surged. 

It took another klik before Starscream was able to wrestle their connection back under control. Then he turned burning optics back to him. "Skyfire," he hissed. "What slagging reason could you _possibly_ have for not telling my Trine I wasn't fragging deactivated?" 

His voice had risen into a furious shriek by the end of his outburst. 

"It's… complicated," Skyfire tried. "At the time, it was impossible for me to send a message to either of them." 

Starscream's optics narrowed. "Explain," he hissed. 

"Promise me you won't do anything rash?" 

Starscream was not going to take the whole 'captured and imprisoned' situation well. He'd be lucky if the Seeker just started cursing out the entire army, possibly to someone's face, instead of doing something truly stupid. 

"Bear with me for a moment." He took a deep invent, trying to find the best words. "In the early days, both factions developed their own symbol. On the orn a mech enlisted, their mark was branded on his armor to show their faction." He tapped the center of his chest, where his own mark lay. "This is the mark of the Decepticons, the Rebellion. Purple for the Decepticons, red for the Autobots." 

Starscream gave him a skeptical look, which was at least a step up from anger. Not much of one, considering the bond was still radiating his anger under the confusion, but he'd take it. After a moment, he seemed to realize something. 

"The medic from before, Ratchet…His symbol was red. He's an Autobot?" he asked. Skyfire nodded, not at all surprised the Seeker had remembered such a minor detail. "But… he didn't act like a prisoner." 

"He's not." 

Dead silence. Skyfire dared to glance up, and he winced at the sight. Starscream was gaping at him, optics bright and mouth open in disbelief. 

When he didn't say anything, Skyfire shifted uncomfortably. "Due to my medical knowledge, I was rarely stationed in the field, but crashing on this planet complicated matters. I ended up being assigned to recover some rare chemicals a few orns ago. The Autobots found out about our plans, and I was a bit… careless during the ensuing battle." 

Starscream kept staring. Finally, he seemed to shake off his daze. "You're a prisoner of war," he said slowly, as if trying to process the new data. 

Skyfire winced. "Well, technically, I-" 

"You're a slagging _prisoner_ here!" he shouted. His optics blazed a deeper red as surprise turned to anger, and Starscream leapt to his feet, vaulting over Skyfire's legs to reach the floor. Apparently, he'd managed to recover from his shock, and he was taking it just as badly as Skyfire'd expected. 

"Those _fraggers_ _,_ " he hissed furiously. "That's why we've been in this room the whole time. It's a slagging _cell._ I bet they've even got some camera's around here, spying on us, and guards stationed outside!" 

Skyfire's flinch was enough proof for him, and Starscream cursed loudly again, glaring suspiciously around the room. Skyfire reached across the bond and found determination swirling alongside indignation. Faintly, he could feel Skywarp and Thundercracker's concern across the trinebond, but they were almost entirely eclipsed by Starscream's fury. Then Starscream turned and started marching towards the room's door. 

"Starscream?" Skyfire called. There wasn't much damage the Seeker could do-he hoped-but he knew better than to underestimate the chaos Starscream could cause. Skyfire got to his feet. 

Starscream reached the door and growled when he found it locked. He started inspecting the hinges and edges of the metal. 

" _Starscream_ _!_ " Skyfire said louder. "What do you think you're doing!" 

Starscream stopped just long enough to glare back at him. "What the frag does it look like I'm doing?" he said. "I'm finding a way to break down this slagging door. I want _out_ of this room!" 

No. Bad, _bad_ idea. No way there wasn't an Autobot stationed right outside their door and already informed that Starscream was acting up. If Starscream was thinking a bit more clearly, he'd have figured that out for himself. Of course, Starscream never had been able to keep a clear processer when he got worked up.  

Stepping forward, he grabbed Starscream's shoulder, physically pulling the Seeker away from the entrance. "That's not a good idea," he said. 

Starscream stared back incredulously. "Not a good idea? It's either this or waiting around twiddling our thumbs for who knows how long. I can dismantle the door in a quarter breem if you stop blocking me, and-" 

" _And_ there's an entire base of Autobots, including the Prime, waiting outside," Skyfire finished for him. "I've already tried running off without a real escape plan before finding you. Trust me, it isn't a good idea." Starscream's optics lit up in interest, and Skyfire groaned. "Don't ask." 

A slow grin spread across Starscream's face. "You already tried to break out? I'm impressed." He waved him off, leaning around Skyfire to look at the door again. "Last time, you didn't have me to help you. Together, I'm sure that-" 

Skyfire groaned. " _No,_ Starscream. Just… no. Besides, it wouldn't matter anyway. Even if we did manage to make it out of the ship, I'm afraid I would be unable to return to the Decepticons." 

"Why not?" Starscream asked. He actually stopped trying to get back to the door to listen to the answer. 

"I made a deal with the Autobots," he admitted. "Megatron… doesn't tolerate traitors. No matter their reason." Which was an understatement. Megatron preferred offlining traitors personally in extremely painful, creative ways. Videos of the punishments would circulate through the ranks every so often as a reminder, which gave Skyfire very good incentive not to encounter Megatron in the near future. Or ever again. 

Starscream looked up at him in dawning comprehension. "Was it because of me?" he asked. 

Skyfire reached out, tracing the edge of one of Starscream's wings comfortingly. "I made my own choices," Skyfire started, but Starscream cut him off. 

"Which means yes." 

Skyfire could only nod in response. "I only found out you might be online when Ratchet performed a spark-scan on me," he said. "Megatron had shown no interest in negotiating for my release, and I'd already learned that escaping was unlikely. I needed you back, so I made a choice." He paused, bending down so that he was face to face with his bonded. "Don't blame yourself." 

"But if I hadn't-" 

"Doesn't matter," Skyfire interrupted. "It's worth everything just to have you online and back with me." 

"You're such a sap," Starscream muttered, but the insult didn't have any bite to it. He sighed. "What exactly did you offer in exchange?" 

Skyfire shrugged noncommittally. "I've worked as an assistant medic for the Decepticon High Command for a while now. That knowledge gave me enough leverage to arrange for a visit to the Arctic and our safety." 

Something about that sparked off an idea in Starscream's mind, and a thoughtful look settled over his face. "Have you given up the info yet?" he asked 

Skyfire cautiously shook his head. "No," he said. "I couldn't trust that Ratchet was being truthful about your survival, so I refused to give up the leverage until you were found. Jazz, the Autobot head of SpecOps, allowed us some time to recover before he demanded answers." 

Starscream smiled, and Skyfire could almost see the gears turning in his processer as his idea gained traction. "Good. Then they've got nothing to hold against you yet. So long as you keep your mouth shut until we can find—or _make—_ an opportunity to break free, you'll be fine." 

Skyfire started shaking his head before Starscream had even finished.  

"I gave my word that you're recovery would mean-" 

"So break it," Starscream said. "They wouldn't hurt you or anything for the information, right?" 

"I… doubt they would, but that's not the point _,_ " Skyfire said. "I gave them my _word,_ Starscream. I will not break it when they kept their side of the bargain." 

 "You mean you're still following that slag?" Starscream asked. Then, slowly, as if explaining something to an exceptionally slow youngling, he continued. "You're a prisoner. In the middle of a _war._ Whatever promises you made—to the slagging _enemy_ , might I add—don't matter." 

"I've held onto my principles for this long. I will not throw them away now because it's inconvenient." 

The brush through the bond came again. He could feel Starscream testing his resolve, searching for any weak spots, before he slumped in defeat and groaned theatrically. 

"Glitch," he sighed, but a brief pulse of affection across the bond offset the insult. 

This time, when Skyfire placed a hand on Starscream's back and started leading him back towards the berths, Starscream followed. He was amused to see Starscream glaring suspiciously at the ceiling, looking for any hidden cameras. Not that he would find any: Skyfire had already looked fruitlessly during the cycles Starscream had been recharging. Any monitoring devices had been very well concealed. 

"It's not so bad," Skyfire tried. "Even before I spoke with Ratchet, I was treated better than I had reason to expect. The Autobots won't abandon me to Megatron's revenge once they have their intel." He hoped. "Maybe my information will even be enough to tip the war in the Autobot's favor and finally end this. We'll find a way to make it work. Both of us." 

Starscream snorted at his optimism, but he burrowed against his side nonetheless. They sat silently together, lost in their own thoughts. Starscream, never one to sit still, shifted forward within half a breem, breaking their silent reverie. Turning so that they were face to face, he brushed a hand over Skyfire's access port, asking for permission. 

"C'mon. I want to see how badly you failed when you were first learning how to spar," he said with a slightly strained grin. 

Skyfire nodded, and they lost themselves inside old memories once again. 

-/- 

Even the tenuous balance they'd managed to find couldn't last forever. It barely even lasted a few solar cycles. Skyfire had finally let Starscream poke around with his medical programs, and Skywarp and Thundercracker were both faint hums in the back of Starscream's spark. 

The knock on the door surprised them both. Starscream jumped at the sound, and only Skyfire's quick reflexes kept the movement from jostling the cable connecting their systems. He hurriedly disconnected, optics locked on the door. The knock sounded again, which was… strange. Why didn't whoever it was just let themselves in? The warning was nice, but the room was still technically a cell; nobody actually needed his permission to enter. 

Swinging his legs off the berth, Skyfire stood up and started making his way towards the door. He pressed the key pad and was almost surprised to find the door slid open at his touch. Grey doorwings and an expressive face stared up at him instead of the taller, blockier frame he'd expected. Bluestreak? Skyfire could only blink down at him. He hadn't seen the Praxian since… before his visit to Ratchet, and never without some energy bars separating them. Bluestreak grinned cheerfully at him, his hand still upraised and curled into a loose fist. 

"Skyfire!" he exclaimed. "How are you?" 

He stayed in the hallway, not even trying to enter the room, and didn't seem bothered at all when Skyfire just stood there, lost for words. The Praxian kept talking. 

"I woulda come to visit you in the med-bay, but Ratchet wouldn't letcha have any visitors. Said it was a bad time, or something like that." He grinned wider, bouncing in place with excitement. "I was so surprised to hear you had a bondmate! And a Seeker too! I haven't seen a real bonded pair in decavorns, at least that I know of. 'S not like anyone would really advertise it 'cause of the war, except for gestalts and they don't really count." 

Bluestreak's gaze slid to the side, and he cocked his head curiously. "Is that him? 'Cause he doesn't look too happy, though I guess that makes sense considering everything that's going on." 

Skyfire looked back to find Starscream perched on the edge of the berth, puffed up and glaring furiously at the interloper. He looked about ready to attack the mech, and Skyfire hastened to calm him down. He sent Starscream a pulse of annoyance so strong it made him physically flinch back, but it managed to knock him out of his blind anger. 

Once that was—temporarily—settled, Skyfire turned back to Bluestreak, who was still regarding Starscream with inquisitive optics. 

"It's time?" he asked. 

Bluestreak quickly shook off his distraction. "Yep! Jazz sent me to bring you over to his office." 

"Very well." 

Nerves fluttered in his spark, but they were offset by something that was almost relief. He'd known this was coming since he first felt the weak warmth of Starscream's spark confirming Ratchet's declaration. Now, it was finally time to uphold their agreement. Skyfire stepped forward to follow Bluestreak, and he was thoroughly unsurprised to find he had a Seeker hovering at his elbow. 

"I'm coming with you," Starscream said. His optics never left Bluestreak's frame, as if just glaring at the Praxian would stop him from doing anything untoward. 

Well, slag. "No, you're not," Skyfire said. 

Starscream glared mutinously at him and took another step forward. Skyfire sighed. Putting his hands on Starscream's shoulders, he turned the Seeker so he had no choice but to look straight at him. 

"Starscream, do you trust me?" he asked. 

Starscream made a face. "You slagging well know I do," he muttered. 

"Then _trust me._ I know what I'm doing." 

"So what, you want me to just sit here and do _nothing_ while you're off getting interrogated?" 

"Yes," he said bluntly. "There's still too much I haven't been able to tell you. I can handle this on my own." 

Starscream made a strangled sound, and for a moment Skyfire thought he was going to refuse again. He was pleasantly surprised when Starscream didn't. 

" _Fine,_ " he conceded, "but you better come back without a single scratch on you, or I'm never letting you out of my sight again." 

Skyfire grinned, though he could tell Starscream was being serious. "As you wish." 

Skyfire turned away again, and this time Starscream didn't try to follow. He stood completely still, watching as Skyfire walked away. The door slid closed between them, and the lock clicked into place. Immediately, Starscream's presence in the bond grew stronger, as if making up for the physical barrier between them. 

A second Autobot was sitting in a chair a few steps away from their room. Bluestreak waved at him as they passed and received a polite nod in return. Then they took a right into an area of the ship Skyfire didn't recognize, and Bluestreak started up his commentary again. 

"You really freaked me out when you collapsed like that," he said. "Ratchet got all quiet when he came in, and he only does that when things are really bad! Otherwise he usually just gets really angry and starts threatening to turn people into toasters, though he'd never actually go through with it." 

From there, Bluestreak moved on to some old med-bay stories, and Skyfire was amazed at Ratchet’s creativity. Some of the things didn't seem possible, though Bluestreak swore they actually happened, and Skyfire had an inkling he'd found where the rumors about the medic had come from. Skyfire occasionally chimed in with a comment or anecdote of his own, but half of his attention remained on more pressing concerns. 

Why had they sent the Praxian to bring him over? Why not Jazz or Ironhide again, both of whom could easily overpower him? Bluestreak was a sharpshooter, not a frontliner, and he barely reached Skyfire's chest. Was it a show of trust? An attempt to make him relax by sending in the friendliest guard? 

A soft whirl of machinery, almost lost beneath Bluestreak's chatter, caught his attention, and Skyfire glanced upwards. One of the cameras that dotted the hallways had shifted to follow their progression. So. Not as trusting as it first seemed. It was almost reassuring. 

They stopped outside a door deep inside the ship. Bluestreak tapped the number pad and stepped back, humming an old tune as he waited. Within a klik, the door slid open to reveal Jazz standing on the other side. Jazz greeted the Praxian with a warm smile 

"Thanks, Blue. Mind waiting outside 'till we're done?" he asked. 

Bluestreak nodded. "Sure, no problem!" 

Bluestreak took his place, and Jazz stepped back, motioning for Skyfire to follow. He did, and the door slid closed behind him, locking with a quiet click. The room somehow seemed smaller, almost claustrophobic. 

"Take a seat," Jazz said, gesturing at a large desk and assorted chairs that dominated the room. 

Skyfire moved across from him. The seat was slightly too small, definitely not designed with a Shuttle in mind. He shifted, more out of awkwardness than an attempt to get comfortable. 

"Now," he said. "Let's get started." 

Gone was any hint of the cheerful, easygoing mech. Jazz was pure professional, every inch the Third in Command of an entire army and Head of SpecOps. He wasn't outright threatening, but the potential was there. Jazz was undoubtedly one of the most dangerous mecha he had ever—or would ever—meet, and this time he wasn't hiding it. 

Skyfire shivered—just a single, light twitch of his plating—but Jazz's visor followed the movement. He smiled—a small, cold thing more predatory than comforting. 

Skyfire was really, really glad he wasn't trying to trick Jazz. He was _not_ that good of a liar. He would have failed. Miserably. And then Jazz would have found a way to drag the truth out of him anyway. Skyfire didn't have anything to hide—aside from his connection to the Command Trine—and he was still feeling the pressure. 

Steeling himself, Skyfire met Jazz's visor head-on, doing his best to hide his nerves. His voice barely even wavered when he spoke. 

"What do you want to know?" 

-/- 

When Jazz finally finished with him, Skyfire was exhausted. Even though he'd done nothing more than talk, he felt wrung out, as if he'd given up parts of himself with the knowledge. Jazz had asked for things even he didn't know he remembered, from security codes to minor medical details. Most of the time was spent talking about medical data, from frame schematics to inborn frametype weaknesses. Skyfire had done his best to answer honestly. 

The only info he'd withheld involved the Seekers. For them, he'd kept any dangerous details to himself. It was a small thing, but one of the only things he could do to protect Skywarp and Thundercracker. Jazz seemed to have noticed something, but he hadn't pushed it. Hopefully, he'd just assumed his reluctance to talk about Seekers stemmed from worry about Starscream.  

Bluestreak was still waiting in the hall when he left the room, and together they started the trek back to his room. Bluestreak seemed to notice his discomfort. As they walked back, he kept up a constant, more subdued chatter, filling up the silence without expecting anything in return. Soon enough, Skyfire found himself back in a familiar hallway. Bluestreak stopped him in front of his door. 

"One last thing," he said. "The Aerialbots have been asking about you and your bondmate. If you're up for it, Command agreed to allow a meeting between you guys later in the orn. It's your choice whether you accept, of course, but the younglings really miss having other flyers around " 

Skyfire didn't miss the fact that they'd waited until after he'd started passing on information before offering up the option. Less chance of him trying anything, he supposed. 

"Starscream would like that," he said. 

Bluestreak smiled. "I'll let them know then," he said. Then he input the door code and stepped aside. 

Starscream was reclining on the berth when the door opened. He propped his head up at the sound, and his wings perked up. 

"You're back!" he called. 

Starscream shot off the berth so fast he almost overbalanced. He skidded to a stop inches from Skyfire, and Skyfire reached over to steady him. Starscream didn't seem to notice, instead throwing the bond wide open and engulfing him in his worry and relief. 

"Are you alright?" he asked. 

"I'm fine, just… tired." 

He crossed the room in a few steps and settled down on the berth with a groan. Starscream joined him, wingtips still flicking in concern. He leaned closer, and Skyfire felt a hand against his wing, stroking the tension away. He started to relax, but even that couldn't completely erase his worries. There was so much that could still go wrong. So many new problems that would come and keep coming until the war ended. He couldn't keep Starscream hidden away from all of them, no matter how much he wanted to. 

Eventually, the Autobots would let them both out of their cage, and then there would be no stopping Starscream from exploring and interacting with the crew. Starscream might not have ever been a particularly trusting mech, but even he wouldn't be able to suspect just what the Autobots were capable of. Jazz, the friendly, easygoing mech until he needed to do his job, Bluestreak, the cheerful chatterbox who'd racked up a staggering death tally, and who knew how many other mecha like them. Skyfire reached out with both hand and spark, ensuring he had the Seeker's full attention. 

"Be careful with them," he warned. "Even if they are good mecha, never forget they're dangerous too. They survived. No matter how friendly they might act, they're still hardened soldiers. They will hurt you if they think they have to." 

Skyfire couldn't let that happen. No matter what. He didn't let Starscream go until he felt the Seeker's agreement, and even then he kept one hand flush against Starscream's plating for reassurance. Starscream didn't pull away, but he seemed distracted. Even his spark was almost distant as his processer worked away. 

Finally, without meeting Skyfire's optics, Starscream quietly asked, "Does that mean you're dangerous too?" 

"I…" Skyfire started, but he stopped when he realized he didn't know what to say. 

Was he dangerous? 

It had never been a word he'd associated with himself, but now? He’d been shielded from the worst of the war, but he'd still needed to adapt. He hadn't killed, but he'd become very well acquainted with death. If someone came at him or Starscream… he'd be able to fight. To kill, if necessary, no matter how much he might hate himself afterwards. He wouldn't have been able to do that before the war. 

"I don't know. I think I might be," he said hesitantly. He might still be weak compared to the frontliners and battle-hardened soldiers, but compared to the mech from before the war? To whom he used to be? He could be considered very dangerous indeed. 

At first, Starscream didn't seem to react. His spark stayed closed off, and Skyfire didn't try to push. He wasn't sure what to do. 

"You've changed," Starscream said softly. He shook his head, fist balled in a kind of helpless anger. "You're my _bondmate_ _._ You're not supposed to change without me right there beside you. You lived through a war without me, and I can't do a single slagging thing to help you." 

"That's not true. You managed to survive. Even when everyone said you should have deactivated, you still survived." He vented harshly. "Yes, you should have been with me. If the world was fair, we'd both have made it out of the storm, and we'd have gone through the war together. But it isn't, and we can only find a way to live with it." 

This time, when he reached out for Starscream, the Seeker opened himself to him. Starscream was a mess of anger and guilt and worry, and Skyfire let him feel his own fear and uncertainty and, above all, his intense relief at being together again. He tried to show Starscream without words that not everything had changed. He was still the same mech, no matter what he'd lost and gained during the war. 

_Look,_ he tried to say. _My spark, at least, is still the same._  

_~.*.~_  


	20. Momentum

Starscream was getting restless. 

He didn't say anything, but Skyfire knew him too well. It was in the subtle things: the way his wings never stopped moving, his increased irritability, or how nothing seemed to hold his attention for long. The memory sharing helped, but even that distraction couldn't work forever. Starscream wasn't used to being stuck in one place, without even a schematic or spare bits of scrap to occupy his time. 

Not long after Starscream started pacing the room, mumbling quietly to himself, someone knocked on the door. Skyfire stood up to answer it, and this time he didn't protest when Starscream joined him. Once again, the door remained closed as they approached, and it slid open at Skyfire's touch. 

He stiffened at the sight of Jazz standing outside the doorway. The mech was loitering casually in the hallway, visor a deep, relaxed blue, and he had a slight smile on his face. None of the coldness from the last time was present, though that did little to reassure him. Jazz returned the stare with a slight tilt of his visor, and Skyfire resisted the urge to stand in front of Starscream to shield him from Jazz's attention. 

"Hey, Skyfire, Starscream," Jazz said, giving them both a nod. "C'n I come in? I figured it was 'bout time the three a us had a talk." 

Skyfire nodded back and reluctantly stepped aside, gesturing for Jazz to come in. When Jazz had passed them, Skyfire leaned closer to Starscream's head and whispered, "This is Jazz, the Autobot's Second in Command and leader of their Special Operations division." 

Realization hit the Seeker, though only a slight stiffening in his wings betrayed it. "The mech in charge of us?" he asked quietly, barely loud enough for Skyfire to make out. "The one you met with earlier?" 

Skyfire nodded, and Starscream's expression darkened. Brushing a hand against the Seeker's back, Skyfire sent him a pulse of caution, which Starscream grumbled at but accepted. 

Jazz grabbed one of the chairs half-abandoned in a corner. He sat down first and motioned for them to join him. Starscream pulled over the last remaining chair, and Skyfire seated himself on the edge of one of the berths. It was the first time Jazz had come face to face with Starscream, and Skyfire didn’t like the way his optics kept sliding towards the Seeker. Jazz seemed to notice and, with a disarming smile, settled his gaze on Skyfire instead. 

"The way I see it, ya have two real options," Jazz said. "If ya want, once ya've finished with yer side a the deal, ya can let things go back to the way things were. Go back ta bein' just 'nother prisoner." He sighed, leaning backwards slightly. "A course, that'll come with its own set a complications. We'll do what we can ta keep yer name outta the picture, but chances are it won't last long. Ya already gave us some good intel, an' it won't be long 'for the 'Cons notice an' start asking questions." 

 "What will you do if they find out?" Starscream asked, optics flicking over to Skyfire. 

Jazz shrugged. "Protect ya. As much as possible, anyway. We're not gonna abandon ya, either of ya, if it looks like Megs is out fer revenge." 

Pretty words, but Skyfire knew how little they could do for a member of the other faction. And that was assuming they bothered putting in the effort at all after he outlived his usefulness. 

"And the second option?" Skyfire asked. 

"Ya officially remove the brand," Jazz said. "We can do a lot more for a Neutral, even an ex-Con, than we could fer a branded Decepticon." 

Skyfire's hand twitched as he stopped himself from reaching up to touch the purple sigil on his chest. The mark had been part of him for so long, a visible symbol of his choices and everything he'd gone through over the vorns. He'd resigned himself to the fact that he would likely never return to the Decepticons as a free mech, but it seemed wrong to erase his connection to the faction. 

When he spoke, his words were barely more than a whisper. "Like what?" 

"Well, ya won't be stuck in this room, fer one. 'S not like ya'd get free run a the base, but ya'd be able to walk around at least. Interact with other mecha again. Maybe even go outside fer a bit. An' protection wise, ya'd be given all the benefits a Neutral. Meaning if Megatron comes 'round demandin' his soldier back, we don't have ta negotiate." 

It was a generous deal; Skyfire was immediately suspicious. "What would that cost me?" he asked. He didn't have anything else valuable to trade. He'd already offered up his entire database of knowledge for Starscream. 

Jazz offered a small smile. "Mech, it wouldn't cost ya anythin' ta renounce the 'Cons. It would just make my job simpler ta be dealin' with two Neutrals 'stead of a prisoner an' his unbranded bondmate" 

Unlikely that was his only motivation, but it was a start. Skyfire glanced at his side, to where Starscream was listening intently. There was one more thing he needed to know, one last thing they could easily hold over his head. 

"And how will that decision affect Starscream?" 

Jazz just waved the question off. "For the most part? It won't. Whatever ya end up doin', Starscream's still technically a Neutral. That's not gonna change 'less he officially takes a brand, an' we're not gonna use him as a bargaining chip." 

Skyfire was tempted to refuse Jazz's suggestion. He was already technically a traitor. He didn't want to become a turncoat too. Didn't want the next time he saw Thundercracker and Skywarp to be with the sigil that had bound them together for decavorns wiped away. 

"I would like some time to think," he forced himself to say instead. 

"Take all the time ya need. 'S not like there's a time limit." 

With that, Jazz turned towards Starscream. "That being said, we've got another few things ta work out. Namely, what ya are and aren't allowed ta do. This ain't exactly a normal situation. Yer a Neutral, but one with a known, strong connection to the 'Cons and, at least fer now, a pretty powerful incentive ta try an' work against us. Meaning yer still gonna have to deal with some restrictions. Namely, you're gonna be restricted ta the ship, fer yer own safety an' ours, an' you're gonna need a guard whenever you wander 'bout." 

Starscream started to bristle, and Skyfire could feel a twinge of panic beneath the annoyance. He said, "I'm going to need to fly." 

Jazz nodded. "I know. An' there we have a bit of a dilemma. We don't have many flight-capable bots stationed here, an' none of them are capable of catching up with a mature Seeker. So, if we can't catch up ta ya, then we need some way of slowin' ya down instead." 

"What do you mean by 'slow me down?'" Starscream asked. 

Jazz was quick to reassure him. "It wouldn't be anythin' invasive. If everythin' goes smoothly, it wouldn't even affect yer flyin' at all. It's a small device, somethin' yer bondmate's familiar with, called an EMP pulser-" 

Skyfire didn't even wait for Jazz to finish his sentence. "No," he ordered. There was no way he was allowing Ratchet to put anything in Starscream's processer. 

Starscream glanced around, brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait, what's an EMP pulser?" he asked. 

Skyfire didn't break eye contact with Jazz when he answered. "It was created during the Golden Age for criminals. The device completely cuts off signals between the processer and frame, and it can be activated by anyone with the correct signal. They are not installing one in you." 

Jazz raised his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I'm not gonna force ya. Trust me, nobody here likes messing with internals, and we wouldn't do anything without yer agreement." He lowered his hands, putting them flat against his knees. "Problem is? Refuse that fail-safe or somethin' similar, an' the amount of choices we can risk givin' ya shrinks down as well. I'd like ta be able ta trust ya. Both of ya, without any of this mess, but that ain't possible yet." 

That sounded suspiciously like a threat. Because, no matter how Jazz dressed it up, he was still suggesting keeping a Seeker from the skies. And that was downright profane. 

"You-" 

He didn't even notice he'd started to lean forward until Starscream's hand on his side pushed him back down. Starscream… didn't look as indignant as it should have been at the thought of giving someone else control over his frame. 

"Does it do any actual damage?" Starscream asked. 

Jazz shook his head. "No. It was designed to be a nonlethal, painless way ta subdue mecha." 

Starscream hummed thoughtfully. "How long would it be in?" 

"Until we can trust you. Me an' Red Alert would have the final say in that. It wouldn't happen fer a while, but it would eventually come out." 

Starscream stared at Jazz in silence before giving a sharp nod. "Fine." 

Skyfire glanced between them, stunned by the unexpected turn of events. "I-wait just a moment, that-" 

Starscream cut him off with a blatt of annoyance over the bond. Skyfire jolted, but he backed down in the face of Starscream's determination. He’d wait until later, when Jazz was gone, to figure out what the Seeker was thinking. 

Jazz glanced between them and, when there were no more protests forthcoming, continued. "I'll set up an appointment with Ratchet then. He's got some free time in 'bout a cycle if ya want ta get it done quick, or ya can wait 'nother few solar cycles." 

"Let's get it over with." 

Jazz nodded. "I'll tell Ratchet." 

He leaned back in his chair, visibly please. "There's just one more thing ta go over 'fore I leave; somethin' a bit lighter ta end on. The Aerialbots." He turned to Starscream, giving the Seeker a grin that seemed genuine. "They've been nagging me somethin' fierce 'bout gettin' a chance ta talk ta ya, an' I don't see a reason ta deny 'em." 

Starscream's face crinkled in confusion. "The... Aerialbots?" he asked, testing out the strange word. 

The grin widened. "Yup. A young gestalt of flyers, not even a quarter vorn old fer all they try ta act like grown mecha. They were the ones in the Arctic with Skyfire when ya were recovered." 

Starscream's optics brightened, and his wings gave a little flutter. "Younglings? Actual younglings?" he asked. 

Jazz nodded. "Yup. Four Jets an' a Shuttle. They're Sigma-sparked from after we landed on Earth." 

Starscream's gaze slid to the side, and the excited flickers of his wings paused. "I'm not going without Skyfire," he warned. 

Jazz shrugged, nonplussed. "Fair 'nough. The gestalt didn't have anythin' bad ta say 'bout him. I doubt they'd protest ta havin' him there as well." 

With that, Jazz stood. "Well, unless ya have anythin' else ya wanna bring up, I'll leave ya to it." 

After a moment of silence, he turned and ambled his way towards the door, humming a jaunty tune as he went. The door slid open at his touch and shut behind him. Skyfire breathed a soft sigh of relief. At his side, Starscream was still caught up in the most recent revelation. 

"I can't believe there's actual younglings here," Starscream mused, mostly to himself. 

Skyfire made a noncommittal sound of assent, more a grunt than anything. He knew how much the news of younglings, probably the only bit of good news he'd received since waking up, meant to Starscream, but there was something more important to worry about. Starscream seemed to notice his discontent, and he quickly snapped out of it, slightly sheepish at being so easily distracted. 

"You know you don't have to let them add the pulser," Skyfire started. "We can figure out another way, one that doesn't involve letting them accessing your processer." 

For a moment, Starscream said nothing. Then he said, "You have one too, don't you?" 

Skyfire nodded. "It needed to be inserted before I could leave for the Arctic." 

The confirmation prompted a pulse of displeasure from the Seeker. He idly scratched at the metal chair, leaving thin gouges in the material. 

"Have they ever activated it?" he asked. 

Skyfire shook his head, and Starscream relaxed. 

"Then stop worrying." He smirked, and something suspiciously devious echoed in his spark. "Besides, I can handle this." 

The way he said it sent up red flags in Skyfire's processer. This wasn't Starscream passively accepting something annoying; this was Starscream actively plotting to circumvent it. No wonder he hadn't put up a fight. 

"Starscream..." he started, mind already whirring with the various things Starscream could be planning and the many ways it could all go catastrophically wrong. 

Starscream just laughed, and no matter what Skyfire tried that was the last he was able to get out of him. 

-/- 

"Done," Ratchet declared, stepping away from Starscream's prone frame. "I'm bringing him out of stasis now." 

Ratchet unplugged himself and busied himself with cleaning the surrounding area as they waited for Starscream to cycle back online. As soon as Ratchet motioned him forward, Skyfire was beside Starscream's berth again. 

Starscream's frame shuddered once as he regained access to motor control, and his optics flickered before settling on a pale shade of red. He jerked upward as the final connections slotted back into place, glancing blearily around the room. Skyfire brushed one hand gently down Starscream's arm, drawing his muddled gaze. Some of the haze cleared in recognition, and his movements evened into a more graceful rhythm. 

"Feeling alright?" he asked quietly. 

Starscream nodded, resetting his optics until they glowed a more natural shade of red. "I'm fine. Just a bit disoriented," he said. "Slag, I hate medical stasis." 

He shook out his frame, paying special attention to his wings and hands. Ratchet must have been keeping an optic on them, because as soon as Starscream was moving almost normally he was there again, wiping his hands clean with a spare rag. 

"You're free to go," he said. "Mirage will be walking you over. I'll ping him, let 'em know you're coming." 

He waved them both towards the door. Starscream stood and, after a moment's pause to steady himself, started tugging Skyfire towards the door. The door slid open for them, and they stepped into the hallway together. 

On their right, Mirage was standing outside at perfect military attention. He tilted his head to regard them as the door opened and gave them a polite nod, which Skyfire self-consciously returned. The last-and only-time he'd come face to face with Mirage, it had been at gunpoint. What exactly did you say after that sort of thing? Mirage was watching him back, but his face didn't betray what he might have been feeling. 

Starscream was the first to step forward. "I haven't seen you before," he said. "I'm Starscream." 

"Mirage," he returned without missing a beat. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance." He stepped gracefully away from the wall. "If you'll follow me..." 

Mirage set a brisk pace down the hall. Starscream fell into place beside him when Skyfire lagged behind, and it didn't take long for Mirage to break the silence. 

"Are you acclimating well?" he asked Starscream politely. 

Starscream gave a vague, non-committal answer, which lead into a rather stilted conversation. Skyfire was perfectly happy to stay completely out of it. Of course, Starscream noticed his discomfort. The Seeker sent him a question, but Skyfire just shook his head. If Starscream pushed it he'd explain later, but he'd really rather not let Starscream know the details of his misguided escape attempt. The Seeker would never let him live it down. 

As they drew closer , Starscream had an unusual bounce to his step. He hid it well, but Skyfire was well versed in Starscream’s various emotional states.  

Just before they arrived, Mirage pulled him aside. Starscream was left a few steps away, glancing over curiously, but when Skyfire didn't protest he stayed where he was. Something in the way Mirage held himself seemed distinctly uncomfortable. 

"I regret the circumstances of our first meeting," he said stiffly. "It is my hope that the altercation won't negatively affect our interactions in the future." 

Skyfire wasn't able to keep the surprise off his face. He recovered quickly though. "I understand. The situation was… less than ideal for a first impression." 

Mirage gave him a small but, he hoped, sincere smile, and stepped over to key the door open. It was one of the largest rooms Skyfire had seen so far; some sort of common area, he suspected, though it was almost entirely empty of mecha. The only occupants were a familiar gaggle of mecha clustered to the side, wings sticking out haphazardly. Five pairs of optics shot up to stare at them as soon as the door opened. 

Then, with an exuberant shout, Fireflight leapt to his feet and lunged towards Starscream, nearly bowling Starscream over in an overexcited glomp. Starscream squawked in surprise and stumbled backwards, but after a moment his face softened and his hand came up to hold the ecstatic youngling. 

"You're here!" Fireflight shouted. "I knew you'd come!" 

SIlverbolt made a strangled sound, followed by an aborted gesture towards his brother. Embarrassment colored his features, and he shot a small glare at the other Jet, which Fireflight completely ignored. The other younglings seemed to take that as their cue to crowd Starscream, voices overlapping one another. After a moment of indecision, Silverbolt joined them as well, having apparently given up on restraining his team. They fit together, a nice clump of limbs and metal, and somehow no wings were jostled or plating dented as the gestalt surged around Starscream. 

Skyfire smiled and stayed away. He'd let the younglings have their moment. Besides, he enjoyed watching Starscream with the young gestalt. Starscream was happy. It radiated through the bond in bright waves, and his features were light and carefree in a way they hadn't been since before the storm. 

Eventually, Starscream managed to herd them into some semblance of order, and the overlapping cacophony of voices quieted down into something more understandable. They migrated to one of the larger couches where, after a brief scuffle, Fireflight and Air Raid managed to take the seats right next to Starscream. Soon enough, Starscream's voice was the only one audible as he started telling a story. He started with an old tale from Vos during the Golden Age, something simple and beautiful. 

At some point, Starscream trilled at them in Seekercant, and he got four multilayered chirps from the Jetlings in response, all of whom looked surprised by the noise. That lead to an impromptu lesson in the melodic, half-instinctual language of the Seekers. As the only Shuttle frame in the group, Silverbolt looked confused without the same coding guiding him, though he diligently tried to follow along. 

Something moved at the edge of his vision, and Skyfire looked over to find Jazz. He hadn't even heard the door open. Jazz was quietly watching the group of mecha in the center of the room, though he turned towards Skyfire almost as soon as he noticed his presence. He smiled disarmingly. 

"Don't worry, 'm just stoppin' by ta make sure everythin's goin' smoothly," Jazz said. 

Having Jazz there, staring, put him on edge. Starscream was vulnerable like this, with his walls down and face open. There had to be a thousand ways Jazz could use it against them, and Skyfire knew that, somewhere in the back of Jazz's processer, he was cataloguing every weakness, just in case he needed to use it. It was how mecha like him worked. 

Jazz didn't stay for long. After only a half breem, he slipped back outside as smoothly as he'd entered. Just before leaving, Jazz paused beside Skyfire, barely a hands width away. 

"I said I'd leave Starscream out of all this, an' I meant it. No matter what comes up. Ya got nothin' ta worry 'bout from me." 

He left without giving Skyfire a chance to respond. Skyfire turned back to Starscream and the younglings after the door closed behind him, but even that charming sight wasn't enough to entirely distract him anymore.  

He wanted to trust Jazz. He had the feeling he would keep his word, at least when it came to Starscream’s well-being. He could only hope that promise would remain when Jazz knew he was dealing with the trinemate of the Air Commander himself instead of some nameless Neutral. 

-/- 

Of course, the meeting with the Aerialbots couldn't last forever. Eventually, duty called, and the younglings were rounded up and ushered away after a brief but heartfelt goodbye. A small, almost soft smile lingered on Starscream's face the entire walk back to their room. Almost as soon as the door slid closed, the remaining joy in Starscream's spark faded away, leaving a pensive uncertainty in its place. 

"Starscream?" he asked in concern. 

Turning away, Starscream moved towards the berth. A flick of his wings ordered Skyfire to follow. Starscream settled down on the far side of the joined berths and fixed Skyfire with an expectant stare until the Shuttle joined him. 

"I need to show you something," Starscream said quietly 

Then Starscream widened the bond, taking control of the connection. After a moments pause, Skyfire followed his lead. Starscream's unease was more pronounced like this, making Skyfire's own concern shoot up. What would have worried Starscream like this?  

Skyfire's confusion was met with exasperation, and Starscream tugged him deeper. Look, he seemed to say, and Skyfire realized he was being guided to where the Seeker's trinebond rested. The two presences stirred briefly as he brushed against them, first in surprise followed by relief and concern. He returned the greeting as much as he could through the secondhand connection, but something about the communication nagged at him. They were closer, he realized with a jolt. The connection was much too strong for them to still be near the ship; stronger than he could remember it being. 

Was there going to be an attack? But no-the Seekers didn't feel like they were preparing for battle. They didn't have any of that dark anticipation. There was worry, yes, and a fierce determination, but the emotions were a slow, solid pulse in their sparks. It wasn't hard to figure out what they'd be after: there was only one thing that would have drawn them towards the Ark. 

Almost without Skyfire noticing, Starscream thumbed open both of their dataports and busied himself with connecting their systems. This time, Starscream kept the connection narrow, just the most basic brush of processers. It was an odd form of communication, where words were simply understood, closer to being seen than heard. 

"How long?" Skyfire asked. 

"It's been a solar cycle since I noticed. Half of that since they stopped moving." 

Longer than he'd thought. "Do you know what they're planning?" 

Starscream's worry and frustration was enough of an answer, and Skyfire cursed. He should have predicted this would happen. Skywarp had been tempted to leave so they could recover Starscream's empty frame. With the possibility of actually having Starscream back? He couldn't think of anything that would have stopped them from following the bond to their trinemate. 

"Hey, Skyfire?" Starscream said. "I'm going to do something stupid. Thought you deserved to know." 

Something in Skyfire froze. Because when Starscream admitted something was a bad idea, it usually meant it was going to be an absolute catastrophe. 

Starscream winced at his reaction. "If I don't do something first, they'll end up doing something worse. I can't let them get hurt." 

He was barely able to hold back the thought of ‘better them than you’ that wanted to form. He didn't really mean it. Even so, if they were left to their own devices, both he and Starscream knew what the other Seekers would end up doing. They would only be patient for so long before trying to force their way to their trinemate. 

"You could try asking the Autobots," he tried halfheartedly. 

Starscream snorted softly into Skyfire's plating. "And tip them off? Besides, you heard Jazz: no flying off to random places. Do you honestly think they'd be any happier knowing I'm actually trying to find some Decepticons?" 

He groaned as something that had been bothering him slipped into place. "Is that why you let them..." 

He could feel Starscream's smirk at that. "I was always planning on finding a way to disable the pulser, of course." 

Of course. No wonder Starscream had agreed so easily. "They likely have safeguards in case of tampering" Skyfire warned. "Be careful about any changes you make." 

He could actually feel Starscream ignoring his warning. Looking up, he grinned at Skyfire, a mix of mischief and pride that had gotten them in trouble so many times before. "Trust me. I can handle this." 

The funny thing was, Starscream was probably telling the truth. In the first vorns he'd known the Seeker, he'd learned over and over again to never, ever underestimate what he could do with sufficient motivation. Starscream was frighteningly intelligent. Easily distracted, emotional, and often irrational, but once he set his mind to something he could accomplish almost anything. 

Deepening the link once more, he guided Starscream towards the section of his processer that held his knowledge of coding. He might not have dealt with EMP pulsers specifically before, but he knew enough to make some good guesses. At the very least, the knowledge would help. Starscream perked up at the new knowledge. 

"Just be careful," he said. 

If the Autobots caught him meddling with their restrictions, he'd lose whatever trust he had. He certainly wouldn't get a second chance. Starscream, already mostly enthralled, spared him a half-hearted acknowledgement and delved even deeper into Skyfire's memory banks. 

Skyfire shifted one last time, moving just enough so that his frame shielded Starscream and any evidence of his plotting from the rest of the room. Starscream didn't break the connection, so Skyfire didn't either. It was a reassuring pressure against his processer. He fell into recharge with the muted hum of Starscream's mind still working away in the back of his processer. 

-/- 

Time passed. They still spent most of their time in the room, but now they occasionally had the chance to visit other parts of the ship. Without fail, Starscream met up with the Aerialbots once each solar cycle. Starscream always came back from those gatherings with his spark bright and buzzing with happiness. 

And whenever they had a free moment, Starscream's processer kept working. From the outside, nothing had changed. They still spent most of the time besides one another, often plugged in as if still sharing memories, but the physical link was just for show; Starscream kept him almost completely out of his processer, and Skyfire did his best not to even think about what Starscream was planning. The less he knew, the less Jazz could trick him into giving away. 

Then, not three solar cycles after Starscream's introduction to the Aerialbots, Skyfire felt a deep, unnatural shift in Starscream's spark, the start of something primal and unmistakable. 

Sky-hunger. 

It was still faint, not even strong enough to affect his thoughts or actions, but that wouldn't last for long. It never did. They had maybe an orn before it got dangerous. Starscream felt it too. His frame completely stilled for a long moment before he let out a quiet oath. 

"Slaggit, I thought I had more time," he muttered to himself 

Then, without another word, he sat back down, shuttered his optics, and proceeded to completely ignore everything around him for the next two cycles. He didn't notice when Skyfire sat down beside him, nor when Skyfire rearranged his limbs into a more comfortable position.  

Then, at the end of those two cycles, the calculating determination stopped and was replaced by an uneasy satisfaction. Starscream onlined his optics, and he offered the Shuttle a wan smile. Even without words, Skyfire recognized the gesture for what it was. A warning, a declaration, even a half-apology in case something went wrong. 

"You haven't changed your mind?" Skyfire asked one last time. 

Starscream shook his head, and Skyfire nodded, not really expecting anything different. Starscream stood up, shaking off the tension in his frame, and started walking forward. 

"Now?" Skyfire asked in surprise, chest tight. 

Starscream didn't dignify that with an answer, just kept walking. The keypad didn't open for him when he pressed it, but the door slid open when Starscream knocked. The Autobot on the other side only needed one glance at the weak tremble already starting in Starscream's hands and wings and the slightly too-bright tinge of his optics to know what was happening. 

"I'll contact Jazz," he promised.  

He stepped back outside to make the call, but he quickly returned. Jazz wasn't with him, but they’d clearly spoken. 

"The Aerialbots are free and excited about flying with you," he said. "But…. your bondmate has to stay behind while you're out of the Ark." He looked at Skyfire while he said it, clearly expecting an argument that didn’t come.  

"That's alright. I don't feel Sky-hunger nearly as quickly as Seekers do. I'll be fine for a while yet." 

The Autobot visibly relaxed. Everything happened quickly after that. Starscream was escorted away from the room, and after that his only connection to the Seeker was through the bond. Excitement and anxiety warred in equal measure on the walk over, and he knew when Starscream met the Aerialbots by the brief pulse of affection it prompted. Nothing could hide the rush of pleasure as Starscream lifted off into the air, and even his anxiety lessened for a moment in the joy at being in the air again. 

Starscream didn't make his move immediately. The familiar happiness he felt at being near the Aerialbots continued, and Skyfire could easily picture Starscream flying with the younglings, correcting their flight patterns and offering advice as they danced in the sky. It only took a moment for that to change. Determination flared brightly for one defining moment, and then Starscream's worry was lost in a heady rush of exhilaration. Skyfire waited anxiously for any flash of pain or panic that would signal something going wrong, but it didn't come. 

After another few kliks, Skyfire hesitantly relaxed. Starscream would have outdistanced the grounders within a few astroseconds. The Aerialbots would have been harder to lose, but there was a reason Starscream had been known for his skill in the air. The younglings didn't have the experience or strength to catch up, particularly if Starscream had been clever about when he made his break. 

Eventually, the exhilaration of pursuit died down. Skyfire could feel the shift as Starscream went from escaping to searching for his trinemates. The faint echo of Skywarp and Thundercracker flared as the two realized what was going on, and he could almost feel the way Starscream pushed his engines even harder. There was no question of when the three found each other. 

Something unclenched inside Skyfire's chest. He’d have to deal with the fallout eventually, but for now he just smiled and let himself share in the three Seekers elation. 

~.*.~ 


	21. Reunions

It was silent for longer than Skyfire expected. No alarms rang out. No angry guard pounded on his door. He listened carefully for any sign from outside, which was the only reason he heard the muted sounds of someone approaching. Skyfire reluctantly narrowed the bond until Starscream's presence was just a pinprick against his spark. Dragging one of the chairs to the center of the room, he sat down, watching the door nervously. 

This time, there was no polite knock to announce their presence. It slid open, and Jazz stormed in like a hurricane. Skyfire caught a glimpse of more mecha outside before the door closed, but he didn't have time to worry about them. Jazz's face was cold and empty, completely blank of emotions. Even standing, the Autobot was barely taller than Skyfire was sitting, but he still managed to loom. 

"Where the _slag_ is he," Jazz demanded. 

"I don't know," Skyfire admitted. The words came out quieter than he'd intended, almost weak. He cringed under the withering glare Jazz shot him. 

"That was not a _request_ ," Jazz said, spitting the words out. " _Tell me where he is._ " 

Intimidating as Jazz was, Skyfire forced himself to stay calm. To protect Starscream, he would endure any punishment. The thought helped him sit straight and keep his voice steady. 

"Starscream didn't even know where he was going," he said. It was, technically, the truth. He'd just followed the trinebond. 

 "Then why did he leave?" 

Skyfire shrugged. "He's a Seeker. They don't take being caged well." Another truth. Starscream would have balked under the Autobot's authority no matter what. 

Jazz said nothing. He just stood there, head tilted slightly and visor dark . Skyfire fidgeted under Jazz's heavy gaze, but he didn't say anything to break the silence. He wasn't about to volunteer anything. 

"Yer lying." Jazz stated. "Do ya honestly expect me ta believe a mech, even a Seeker, would abandon his bondmate ta avoid what little restrictions we'd put him under? Without even attemptin' ta free ya as well?" 

Skyfire tried to stall, putting on his best confused face. "What are you-" 

"Somethin's been stirring up the 'Cons lately. Old Megs has been on a warpath, an' the Officers are scrambling ta cover somethin' up. Seems to me all this started 'round when we picked yer Bondmate up from the ice. An' now he's gone." He leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose, and all Skyfire could see was the bright blue of Jazz's visor. "I don't believe in coincidences. So tell me again. _What did_ _your_ _bondmate_ _do?_ " 

Skyfire could only shake his head. He couldn't find the words for an argument or excuse, and he knew Jazz wouldn't believe him anyway. Jazz stayed there far too long before he pulled back again with a quiet curse.  

"All that time an' sacrifice ta find him, an' yer just happy ta let him wander off. A Civvie, on a strange planet with hostiles running 'bout who would be perfectly happy ta shoot 'im on sight. Ya gotta know he's in danger every moment he's alone. So why are you so calm?" 

"Starscream can take care of himself" 

Jazz laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. "Mech, you an' I both know any mech without backup is gonna get taken out sooner or later. Probably sooner." He tilted his head. "'Less he's not gonna be alone. Ya sure ya don't know where he's headin'?" 

The implication hit Skyfire like a blow. Skyfire reacted before he could think. "Starscream is _not_ going to be a Decepticon," he snapped. He didn't want the Seeker anywhere near Megatron or half of the mecha on Earth, especially not without Skyfire there to watch his back. 

"But he is plannin' on meeting with someone. Someone that'll keep 'im safe." 

"No," Skyfire said, but he could tell Jazz was unconvinced. Skyfire never had been good at lying; that had been Starscream's specialty. 

"Someone ya trust then. A mech who won't just bring 'im right ta the Nemesis, an' who'll take a mighty big risk because of it. Those are some high standards ya got there." His visor darkened, and he cursed. "A mech--or two—who ain't been seen for a couple a orns, an' high ranked 'nough ta cause a stir with their absence. Mecha who might have their own, personal reasons fer helping out." 

He sounded like someone coming to a realization he didn't like the taste of. Skyfire opened his mouth—to argue or deny it or _something_ —but Jazz cut him off before he could say a word. "Don't even bother," he said.  "Yer lucky I still got damage control ta do." 

Then he swept out of the room as dramatically as he'd entered. The door locked behind him. Skyfire stood and was not surprised at all to find that his legs trembling beneath him. Two steps later, he sank down on the berth, where he could rest his full weight against the wall. Skyfire was barely able to wait until his spark had calmed before widening the bond again. The Seekers' delight, now colored with a tinge of seriousness, flowed across the bond again, and Skyfire sagged downward in relief at the feel of their sparks. He brushed lightly against Starscream's spark just to feel him pulse back. Skyfire stayed there, on the outskirts of their emotions, and tried to relax. Starscream was happy. He was safe with his trinemates there to protect him, and Skyfire knew they would never allow anything to harm Starscream. 

It would have to be enough. 

-/- 

Skyfire was left completely isolated for the next few solar cycles. He was constantly on edge, processor whirring with all the possible punishments the Autobots could choose. Despite it all, boredom  set in after the first empty cycles, mixing sickeningly with the anticipation. Not for the first time, Skyfire wished for his lab again or at least an old project to work on. Anything to keep his hands and processer busy. 

Starscream's emotions would leak across the bond. Every so often he could feel them flying around or arguing among themselves. Skyfire almost wished he could have joined Starscream in his escape just so he could hear what was being said. He trusted Skywarp and Thundercracker wouldn't take him back to the Nemesis. He had to. But he couldn't stop imagining what could happen if they did. Megatron had _hated_ Neutrals-had considered anyone who refused to fight the worst kind of coward. There was no telling what he would make of Starscream. 

But Skyfire didn't know what they were saying or deciding. He could only sit there, and wait, and hope. 

-/- 

The first sign that something had changed was when Starscream's spark suddenly, intentionally _flared_. The pulse subsided as soon as Starscream had Skyfire's full attention. The first-and strongest-emotion Skyfire noticed was anticipation. Nervousness was present as well, and underlying it all was a sense of purpose that had been missing ever since his escape. Starscream had a _plan_. That could be a good or a very, very bad thing. 

The three of them were flying-their sparks practically purred from being in the air-but that didn't tell him where they were going or why Starscream thought it was so important to let him know about it.   

They were getting closer. It was near impossible to get a precise estimate of distance from the bond alone, but they had to be near the outskirts of the Autobot's patrols. And they didn't show any signs of stopping. 

Skyfire sent Starscream a questioning probe, heavily mixed with his own worry and confusion, but Starscream's reply didn't help. It was such a jumble of emotions that Skyfire didn't understand anything except that, despite all reason, Starscream was barely worried about flying back towards Autobot territory. 

With a frustrated groan, Skyfire stood up and began pacing around the room. He had to turn every few steps to avoid the walls, and the room had never before seemed quite so small. His wings prickled; he wanted to find Starscream, and it really had been too long since he'd flown. 

Starscream's apprehension peaked, now tinged with veins of real fear, and Skyfire couldn't take it anymore. Abandoning his circuit around the room, he headed to the door. He sent another tendril across the bond, but nothing had changed. Starscream, sensing his probe, sent him a pulse of reassurance and tentative hope. It didn't help much; Skyfire could feel just how anxious Starscream still was. 

With a low, frustrated hiss of breath, Skyfire brought his fist against the door, creating a loud clang. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but he couldn't stay trapped in the room any longer. 

There was a long pause after that, long enough for Skyfire to knock on the door a second time. When even that didn't get a response, he started to get suspicious. Skyfire waited impatiently beside the entrance, counting the astroseconds as they passed. The door still didn't open. Eventually, Skyfire had to admit it wasn't going to. 

For several long moments, Skyfire continued staring blankly at the door. They'd trapped him inside. Those… those _slaggers_ weren't even going to give him the chance to speak. A growing ache in his hands alerted him to the fact that, completely without noticing, he'd clenched his hands into fists. He turned and, without pausing to think, slammed his fist into the door as hard as he could. Pain flared up his arm, but it was worth it for the loud, satisfying crack that reverberated through the room.  

The metal was cool against the plating of his hand where it still rested against the door. It felt soothing against the heated areas where his self-repair had already started to work, and Skyfire leaned forward, resting his head there as if that would help soothe his processer as well. Just a few inches of metal separated him from the rest of the ship. It might as well have been a megamile. So, with a low growl of frustration, Skyfire pushed away from the door and resumed his circuit around the room. 

His frustration didn't go unnoticed by his bondmate. Starscream was reaching out in worry, and he could feel just how much his own anger was upsetting his bondmate. He tried to calm his spark. He wasn't very successful. 

It wasn't long before he stopped being able to tell if Starscream was still getting closer; the Seeker was so close the bond was as strong as it was going to get. Skyfire groaned, and he had to stop himself from hitting something again. What the slag was going on out there? Had Starscream been recaptured? Had he surrendered? What about Skywarp and Thundercracker; where were they? 

He jerked to a stop at the sound of the door unlocking. It slid open quietly, revealing Bluestreak, blaster in hand, on the other side. The mech was shifting nervously from side to side, though the hand holding his blaster never wavered. He twitched when Skyfire took a step forward, so Skyfire stopped moving. 

"Tell me what's going on," Skyfire said. 

Bluestreak met his gaze, looking uncomfortable but not intimidated. "I'm… not sure what I'm allowed to say yet. And it's really not worth disturbing Jazz over it right now. Just wait a couple kliks and you'll be able to see instead." 

 Bluestreak stepped backwards, gesturing for Skyfire to follow, and Skyfire obeyed. They walked in a new direction this time, deeper into the ship than before. Bluestreak was moving quickly, and they stopped outside a locked door. The Praxian keyed in the code, and they entered. 

Skyfire recognized the sight of holding cells. He'd certainly seen enough of them as a Decepticon. The red Twin, Sideswipe, was standing outside one of the doors, leaning against the wall with a blaster hanging over his shoulder. 

"Hey, Blue," Sideswipe said, nodding at the Praxian. "Everything ready?" 

Bluestreak nodded. "Yep. Jazz and Red Alert have already cleared it." 

"Fair 'nough." Sideswipe turned and started fiddling with a complicated series of key pads and physical locks that barred the door, deactivating them one by one. After he removed the last one, he paused before opening the door and turned to address Skyfire for the first time. 

"Knock if ya wanna get out. Not gonna guarantee we'll answer though," he said. "We've got cameras everywhere, so don't try anything stupid. No linking up either; if you're gonna say something, you say it out loud." 

He didn't even wait for Skyfire's acknowledgement before opening the door and shoving Skyfire inside. Skyfire only managed to take a single step before something came barreling across the room and a very familiar Seeker tackled him, sending Skyfire back a half-step. He didn't even need to see the familiar red and white to know who it was; the bond sang with joy at the physical contact, 

Movement out of the corner of his vision sent his head shooting up again just in time to register a different pair of wings, and then Skyfire found himself with a second Seeker in his arms. This time, Skyfire stumbled back into the wall with a loud clatter of metal on metal. Skyfire barely noticed the sound or the brief ache that accompanied it. He was too busy staring at the black and purple frame that had joined Starscream. 

"Skywarp?" he gasped. 

"Missed you," Skywarp mumbled, the words muffled against Skyfire's plating. He squeezed tighter. 

Skyfire was struck speechless, unable to do anything more than stare down at the two pairs of wings. Skywarp didn't seem like he was going to be letting go any time soon, not that Skyfire minded. He'd _missed_ the Seeker. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked. 

Skywarp groaned and tried to hide his head between Skyfire's plating and Starscream's wing. It took another moment-and a prod over the bond that even Skyfire could feel-for Skywarp to respond. "Long story. Really long. Let's at least get more comfortable first." 

Ignoring the chairs bolted to the floor, Skywarp tugged them over to an empty corner of the bare room. He stared at Skyfire expectantly until he sat. Starscream immediately claimed his spot on Skyfire's lap and Skywarp settling against Skyfire's side, trapping Skyfire between them and the walls. Even then, when they were properly situated, Skywarp didn't say anything, and Skyfire realized the Seeker was waiting for him to make the first move. 

"Where's Thundercracker?" Skyfire asked. 

Skywarp made a face and glanced over towards the bare wall on their left. "Jazz is talking to him. Alone." He snorted. "As if we won't know what's going on in there anyway." 

"Is he alright?" 

Skywarp nodded. "He's not damaged. None of us were hurt." 

A weight seemed to lift from Skyfire's shoulders. "Good. I was worried," he said. 

Skywarp pulled away from cuddling against Skyfire's side enough to give him an incredulous look. " _You_ were worried? Who's the one who's been a prisoner of the slagging Autobots for _orns_. Do you have any idea how we felt when we couldn't find you? We were worried you might have deactivated! And then the Prime called to say he had you and wanted a trade, but Megatron just slagging offlined the vidscreen in his face." 

He said Megatron's name with such venom that Skyfire visibly started. He looked down at Skywarp in surprise, but the Seeker met his gaze unrepentantly. How… unexpected. Sure, Skywarp's admiration for their Commander had cooled in recent vorns, but it'd never gone passed frustrated mutters about Megatron's temper. 

"What happened while I was gone?" Skyfire asked. 

Skywarp grimaced and leaned back against Skyfire's side, where he nudged at Skyfire's arm until he took the hint and resumed stroking his wing. He shot a glance at a security camera ostentatiously hanging in the opposite corner before huffing and, apparently, deciding to ignore it. 

"Things got worse after you were taken," he admitted. "It wasn't too bad at first. Megatron's temper's been getting bad, but we could handle it. He was getting more paranoid too, always worried about people plotting against him and slag like that." 

Skyfire wished he could have said he was surprised. It went without saying that the two Seekers had occasionally been the victims of Megatron's temper. He wished he could have been there, though logically he knew he couldn't have made a difference. 

 "When we found out what'd happened, we tried to get you back. We weren't just gonna leave you there, no matter what Megatron said. TC came up with this plan, but Megatron didn't listen. Then TC tried to push it, and Megatron slagged him up bad for disrespecting him." He took a shaky breath, and his hand slid down to lay motionlessly on his lap. "He spent a few solar cycles in the med-bay. Then Megatron decided it was time for a raid, and he didn't care that Thundercracker was still recovering." 

Skywarp sounded so upset that Skyfire couldn't help but reach out and tug him closer, angling the Seeker so he could reach his wings better. Skywarp accepted the gesture with a quiet rumble, but it didn't distract him for long. 

"So, TC hadn't been invited to the strategy meeting for the mission at all, and Megatron apparently didn't see a problem in letting a _grounder_ have full control over the air support. Of course, we ended up with something slagging stupid, and it was too soon for TC to risk arguing with Megatron again." He took a deep breath. "Long story short, the Autobots came, we weren't prepared, and we got our afts handed to us. And then, of course, Megatron blamed Thundercracker for it." 

Skywarp was tense under Skyfire's hand, plating clenched tight against his frame and wings rigid. On Skyfire's other side, Starscream stirred, reaching out to his trinemate with frame and spark. Skywarp didn't relax, but he leaned into the pressure nonetheless. He even reached up with his free arm to tug Starscream closer. 

"Megatron was pissed as Pit about the failure, and of course he blamed us," Skywarp said. "Nevermind that we had nothing to do with the formations or the plan. Or that, if we had adjusted to something more reasonable, he'd have slagged us up anyway for disobeying orders." 

By the end, Skywarp's voice had started to rise until it was almost a shout. He cut himself off and took a deep, shuddering breath. When he continued, his voice was calmer, but Skyfire could still clearly hear the anger bubbling under the surface. 

"TC was already in bad shape from the battle. He'd torn some wields and gotten a nasty shot to the side, so he already should have been on his way back to the med-bay. Megatron didn't care. He just-" Skywarp broke off, shuddering. "He was in _stasis_ by the time Megatron stopped. Any longer, and he might have actually-" 

Skywarp stopped there, swallowing hard and staring downward, away from them. His hands were clenched uselessly at his side. 

"Skywarp..." Skyfire started, but he couldn't continue. 

Skywarp shook his head. "I shoulda jumped in soon as I realized Megatron was going too far," Skywarp said, voice wavering. "I was _going_ to. But TC ordered me not to, and I wasn't sure what to do. So I did nothing. I probably would have kept doing nothing until it was too late if Megatron had kept going. I could have been _alone_." 

Skywarp said the word with a heartbreaking terror. To a Seeker, who was surrounded by kin and Trine for their entire life, being alone was the worst possible fate. To be Trineless was to barely even be a Seeker anymore. 

Starscream made a soft, mournful sound and curled around his trinemate as much as he could. Skyfire continued stroking the two Seekers, but the motion was almost mechanical as he struggled to process the new revelation. 

Thundercracker could have deactivated, and he wouldn't have even known. 

He could all too easily picture what would have happened next. Skywarp would have followed his trinemate instead of having to deal with a second empty bond. Without the trinebonds to stabilize his spark, Starscream might not have survived his retrieval either. The thought of losing all three of them at once was too horrifying to consider. 

"So you left," Skyfire said. 

Skywarp nodded. "Thundercracker logged some slag about a training mission just in case, but we didn't stick around to ask permission. Less chance of getting slagged up that way." His voice hardened. "Let Megatron find a new scapegoat. I'm slagging _done_." 

Beneath his anger, Skyfire could see the hurt Skywarp was trying to hide. Skywarp had believed in the Decepticons in a way Skyfire never had. That enthusiasm had faded as the war stretched on, but he'd always been loyal. Until this. 

"I'm glad you came," Skyfire said, hoping to reassure the Seeker. "I wish the situation was different, but I'm glad you're here." He chuckled humorlessly. "What does it say that it's actually safer here as a prisoner than as a high ranking officer back at the ship?" 

It was an observation more than a real question, but Skywarp answered anyway. "That things are just as fragged up now as they were before the war." 

Skyfire didn't want to dwell on how true that was. He changed the subject. 

"What will you do now?" 

Skywarp shrugged. "Dunno. Survive. TC has some tidbits he's willing to share for sanctuary if he has to, stuff 'bout plans for the next couple raids mostly. So now we gotta wait and see what TC manages to negotiate for us. Slag. I've always hated waiting." 

Skyfire sensed the spark of mischief a moment before Starscream spoke. 

"That's because you have the attention span of a petrorabbit," he said, tapping Skywarp lightly on the helm. 

"Oi!" Skywarp said, pretending to take offense. It wasn't much of a distraction, but it made Skywarp smile again. They squabbled good naturedly for a few kliks before slowly trickling to a stop. The silence that followed was lighter, though the undercurrents of tension didn't completely disappear. Skywarp, of course, didn't let the silence last for long. Soon enough, he twisted in Skyfire's grip to stare up at him again. 

"Tell me about what's happened since you were taken," he said. 

 "Most of it isn't very interesting." 

"Tell me anyway." 

This time, Skyfire could tell how anxious Skywarp was for a distraction. Skywarp was holding it together remarkably well, but he was still separated from his trinemate and trapped inside the enemy's flagship. Bringing up recent memories certainly couldn't have helped his emotional state either. 

So Skyfire nodded. "Alright." 

It took him a moment to figure out where to start, but eventually he began with some of his first moments after his capture and went from there. He'd leave some of it out. Skywarp didn't need to know how frightened he'd been at first, alone in the Autobot flagship, or the mind-numbing boredom that had often set in. Some of it, though, he thought Skywarp would enjoy. The Seeker would probably get a kick out of hearing about his first escape attempt, and he'd love knowing about the Aerialbots' antics. 

Skywarp settled in to listen, and Starscream perked up curiously. Soon enough, the quiet rumble of his voice was the only sound in the room. Skywarp and Starscream were both warm, comforting weights against his plating. If he offlined his optics, he could almost pretend they were back in his old quarters. They would find out what would happen to the four of them later. For now, he just wanted to enjoy having his bondmate and one of the few other mecha he cared about beside him. 

~.*.~ 


	22. Settling In

Skyfire was right. Skywarp did enjoy hearing about the Aerialbots. He perked up as soon as Skyfire mentioned them. Starscream chimed in every so often, pointing out small details like how Air Raid would squirm every time he received a compliment or Fireflight's constantly growing collection of shiny rocks.

He'd just finished telling them a story involving Slingshot and a human pilot when the door slid open.. Skyfire breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a familiar pair of blue wings coming through the doorway. There was a less welcome black and white Autobot behind him, but he barely spared Jazz a glance.

Thundercracker looked exhausted. His wings were stiff and high on his back. As he moved, the light caught on thin, almost invisible lines that crisscrossed his armor: weld marks. The damage was nearly healed, but Skyfire could see how deeply it had cut into his frame. Some of the welds bisected major energon lines, and it chilled Skyfire to see them.

"TC!" Skywarp shouted. He flew to his feet, and for a moment Skyfire was convinced he was going to tackle Thundercracker. He jerked to a stop when he saw Jazz, and his wings flared out aggressively. Starscream slid off Skyfire's lap, and together they stood more sedately than his trinemate. Thundercracker's optics followed them.

He turned towards Jazz. "May we have some privacy to speak?" Thundercracker asked.

Jazz nodded. "Take as much time as ya need. We'll still be recordin' though. Standard procedure."

"That's acceptable."

With that, Jazz turned and left the room. The door hadn't even closed before Skywarp dashed forward to embrace his trinemate. Thundercracker returned the motion with a strained smile. He looked up, and his smile grew into something more genuine when his gaze landed on the other two. In two quick steps, he walked up to them and pulled Skyfire into a firm embrace.

"It's good to see you're alright," he said before pulling away.

Skywarp broke the silence first. "How'd it go?" he asked.

Thundercracker sighed. He was rubbing at his forehead, face tight with stress. "As well as expected. We're valuable, and they don't trust us. They'll protect us for now. We'll figure out the rest later.

At his side, Starscream snorted. "You've gotten more paranoid while I was asleep," he said. "You two are renouncing the 'Cons. Seems to me like some protection is the least these guys can do."

"You'd be surprised by how many mecha fail even the minimum standard for decency," Skyfire muttered.

Starscream hesitated, surprised, and stared at Skyfire. "That's... pessimistic of you," he said slowly. Skyfire felt a nudge against the bond, something concerned and almost hesitant.

Skyfire turned away, embarrassed. Starscream used to laugh at what he called Skyfire's endless optimism. Skyfire supposed he'd lost that decavorns ago, back when he'd been forced to take the brand, and yet this was the first time he'd felt its absence.

Thundercracker put a hand on Skyfire's arm. He looked worried. "Jazz wants to talk to you too. Privately. It's probably just to make sure our stories match. Answer honestly and you'll be fine."

Nervousness shot through Skyfire's spark as he glanced at the door, but he nodded. "Let's get this over with," he said. He started walking, and Starscream came with him.

"I'm coming too," he said, crossing his arms and glaring up at him.

"No," Thundercracker said. "You're staying here."

"We're bonded. Legally, that means they're not allowed to separate us. I'm not letting him go alone."

Skywarp put a hand on his shoulder. "We can handle this one, Star. You don't need to-"

Starscream shoved him away. "Don't patronize me!" he said. "It's just a slagging conversation."

"This guy's dangerous, Star! Let us handle it, and we'll-"

It was the wrong thing to say. Starscream puffed up, pride wounded. "What, so it's fine for you to be in danger but not me? I'm your slagging Trine leader! I can take care of myself."

"You're also a civilian now! This isn't some backalley brawl, and Jazz isn't like whatever overconfident glitch you're used to. Hes a spy! An assassin!"

That only set Starscream off worse, and soon they were bickering, shouting over each other as their words ran together in an unintelligeable mess.

Skyfire took a deep, calming breath and stepped between them. "That's enough," he said, looking at Starscream.

"But he-"

"You were dead, Star."

Starscream stilled, and Skyfire continued. "We thought you were deactivated for decavorns. Let us take care of you, at least for now. Please."

Starscream opened his mouth as if to argue, but Skyfire stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine," he said with a smile. "I survived a war, after all. One conversation won't be a problem."

Of course, with Jazz, it was hard to tell, but he was fairly confident he was telling the truth about just asking questions. Not enough to risk Starscream coming with him though, no matter how much the Seeker hated being left behind.

"I still don't need to be protected," Star grumbled.

"But we need to protect you. Give us time to get used to having you back."

He stared at Starscream until the Seeker looked away. "Fine," he said, "but I won't let you do anything ridiculous."

"That's acceptable."

Starscream undoubtedly had a different definition of 'ridiculous' than the rest of them, but they could handle that when it came up. Skyfire continued forward alone, and the door opened at his touch. Jazz was on the other side, sitting with his hands clasped above one small table. An empty chair waited in front of it, too small for Skyfire's frame. Skyfire sat anyway, feeling the metal dig into his side.

"I got a couple a questions for ya. Answer 'em honestly and we'll be done real quick."

Skyfire nodded. He didn't like the serious look on Jazz's face or the absense of his normal smile. He wasn't sure whether he liked the saboteur better when he was pretending to be harmless or when, like now, he dropped the charade. At least this was honest.

"Why did yer Bondmate leave?"

It was the same question Jazz had asked him an orn earlier, right after Starscream had disappeared. This time, Skyfire could answer him honestly.

"He needed to find his Trine. They reacted strongly after the trinebond reconnected."

"An' ya were fine with this plan? Going through alla that to find 'im and letting 'im run off right after?"

Not really. He'd hated having Starscream out of his sight. Even with the bond still strong, that time alone in the room had been some of the worst in vorns. He wouldn't let Jazz off-balance him though. "His Trine needed him more, and they didn't have the benefit of knowing what had happened to Starscream. Better for Starscream to find them before they did something foolish."

Jazz made a noncommittal sound. Skyfire couldn't' tell if he believed him.

"An' what made 'em come back?"

Skyfire swallowed hard. He could think of half a dozen reasons, but only one really mattered. "Because it was safer here," he said quietly. "For both Starscream and his Trinemates."

"Ya think he woulda been in danger with the 'Cons?"

"I know they would have been. All three of them."

Jazz leaned forward. "An' ya don't think they're in danger here? As prisoners a the mecha they've been tryin' ta kill for millennia?"

Part of Skyfire wanted to laugh. Skyfire crushed that half-hysterical impulse. "Isn't everywhere dangerous?" he said. "At least here we're together and we have a chance. And everyone here is reasonably sane."

Flawed, certainly. Not at all trustworthy. But sane. He could trust in that, which was more than he could say for the Nemesis.

He was dismissed, and walking back to the main room was a relief, even though it meant putting Jazz at his back. The three Seekers were side by side at the back of the cell. Thundercracker was slumped against Skywarp, apparently unconscious, but Starscream jumped up to meet him. He waited until the door closed, cutting Jazz off from sight, before inspecting Skyfire's frame.

"I'm fine," Skyfire said. 'It really was just a conversation."

Starscream huffed. "Then you should have let me come with you," he muttered.

Skyfire didn't have the energy to start that argument again. He sat down heavily beside Skywarp. Thundercracker woke up when Skyfire sat down. His optics were dim at first, but they cleared once they focused on Skyfire. He pushed himself upright, wobbling as Skywarp steadied him.

"You're alright?" he asked. "Nothing happened?"

Skyfire nodded and held Thundercracker's gaze for several kliks. Thundercracker seemed to be searching for something. A lie, maybe, or signs of an injury. He seemed satisfied with what he found because he slumped back against Skywarp.

"Keep being careful, alright?" he said, voice faint. The suggestion seemed to be aimed at all of them. "Try not to be alone with anyone if you can avoid it."

Thundercracker fell back offline soon after that, unable to keep his optics online.

They spent the night in the cell. By silent agreement, Skyfire and Skywarp took turns keeping watch. Thundercracker especially needed the rest. They ignored the sparse furnishings in the room and stayed by their corner. They'd all slept in worse places, either during the war or on Academy missions. Nobody interrupted them.

-/-

Around midmorning, the door opened again. Skyfire recognized the white and blue mech lingering in the doorway, though he'd only met the mech in person twice. Mirage, the mech who'd stopped his ill-fated escape attempt by shooting him. It had been a rather memorable first meeting.

"Good morning," Mirage said, looking at each of them in turn. "I apologize for the accomodations, but your presence was rather unexpected. We've prepared a room for you now. If you'll follow me?"

He turned, exposing the open doorway. With only a moment's hesitation, they obeyed him. There was another guard outside the room who nodded at Mirage as they passed. Skyfire was somewhat surprised they were allowed out of the cell unrestrained, though he was grateful for the liberty.

"Where are we going?" Thundercracker asked.

Mirage kept walking as he answered. "We've been uncovering more parts of the old ship as we expand deeper into the mountain. A few have been old storage rooms, which have been converted into more residential areas."

So, rooms that were deep inside the stone and far from anything strategically important to the Autobots. It sounded like a good place for a more comfortable cell. Skyfire tried to be grateful--at least they would be out of that bare, uncomfortable cell--but it was hard to muster up the emotion. They walked alone in silence through a few empty hallways. Thundercracker and Skywarp were tense at his side, glancing warily around them as they walked through the Autobot stronghold. Eventually, Mirage glanced over towards Skyfire and Starscream.

"You two were scientists, correct?" he asked.

Skyfire nodded, but Starscream hufffed. "Are," he corrected. "We _are_ scientists. It's not something you randomly stop being."  
Mirage's mouth curved in a fleeting smile. "I'm afraid both sides have few formally trained scientists left, past or present. Even fewer are familiar with energon production."

Starscream puffed up. "We're not just familiar with energon, we're _specialists_ ," he said. "We were exploreres, and that didn't just mean finding energy sources. We've had to construct energon converters from scratch for whatever energy source was nearby, and we always found something we could use."

Skyfire stiffled a smile. Starscream was exaggerating slightly--they'd certainly had their share of failed experiments and inhospitable planets--but he had reason to take pride in his skill. They'd been among the best at the Academy; Starscream had accepted nothing less.

"Our current scientists are mostly engineers or chemists," Mirage said. "The converters on this planet were constructed mainly through old blueprints and experiments. I'm sure Wheeljack would appreciate a more experienced optic looking over the design."

Excitement burst across the bond; Starscream loved showing off his skill, and he loved being valuable. Skyfire could feel the lure of a lab too--a real lab,where he'd be doing something that didn't involve damage and deactivation--but he wasn't so easily distracted.

"What would it cost us?" he asked.

Starscream flinched beside him, but Mirage didn't hesitate. "Nothing," he said. "Though it would certainly benefit your reception on the Ark to be seen contributing to the ship's welbeing."

"And Jazz wouldn't be concerned about our involvement?"

"I'm sure he'll see the benefits."

Skyfire wasn't sure what to think. Something about the offer rubbed him the wrong way, and he suspected it involved Jazz. Thankfully, before Mirage could say anything else, they arrived. Mirage stopped in front of a plain door in the middle of a long, empty hall.

"Guards will be stationed outside the room. Knock if you have a question or request. In the morning, a guard will accompany you to the rec-room for energon. Red Alert has also volunteered to personally watch over you while you're out of your quarters, and he's known to err on the side of caution in regards to security matters."

Skyfire winced. He'd heard the rumors about the legendary—and paranoid—Security Director. They wouldn't be able to accidentally stumble against a wall without him declaring it a plot to test the structural integrity of the ship.

Mirage input a code in the keypad and stepped aside, motioning them forward. It was larger than the room he and Starscream had shared—large enough to comfortably fit the four of them. The room was sparsely furnished and had obviously been put together in a hurry. Two large berths dominated the far end of the room, and closer were several chairs and a low table.

Starscream and Skywarp followed him in, but Thundercracker paused to quietly say something to Mirage. Mirage nodded in response, and Thundercracker took that last step in. Skyfire bit back his questions. Thundercracker was looking better than before, but he still seemed exhausted and overly stressed. Questions could wait.

Thundercracker sat heavily down in one of the chairs. It wasn't a Vosnian design and didn't have quite enough space for his wings, but it had clearly been designed for mecha with back kibble. Doorwings, perhaps?

Starscream lingered near the door, staring at the closed metal as if he could see the ship beyond it. "Do you think he's telling the truth? About the lab?" he asked.

Skywarp shrugged and joined Thundercracker in the chairs. "Dunno," he said. "Maybe the Boss will shoot down the idea or they won't get security clearance, and nothing happens."

"Or maybe the Autobots want somebody to upgrade their energon converters for free," Skyfire said.

Starscream twisted to look at him. "Why wouldn't they just say that?"

Skyfire shrugged. "Spec-ops has a thing for subtlety and manipulation, even when it's not necessary," he said. Then, stretching, he walked over to join the other Seekers. "Don't get your hopes up too much; there's a good chance nothing will come of it."

Starscream grumbled, but he finally turned away from the door. The chairs were all taken, so he lounged against the table instead. "Now what?" he asked, looking around the sparse room with distaste.

Skywarp patted his side. "We keep our heads down, don't cause any problems, and survive," he said.

-/-

Later, someone knocked on the door, and Thundercracker answered it. The door opened before he reached it, revealing an unfamiliar mech holding a small metal container. The Autobot shoved the metal tin into Thundercracker's hands and left. Thundercracker keyed the door closed without saying a word before setting it down on the table.

Exchanging a confused look with Starscream, Skyfire glanced inside. The container was filled with a thick grey sludge that clung to the side of the metal and glistened in the light. He resisted the urge to touch it to see if the texture was as strange as its appearance.

"What is it?" Skywarp asked, staring down at it in fascination. He reached over to poke it with one finger, but Thundercracker grabbed his wrist.

"Careful. It'll mess up your color nanites," he warned.

Skywarp froze, realization stilling his hand. "The brand?"

Thundercracker nodded. "It's a nanite gel that deprograms color nanites. After an orn or so, it should enable the natural color pattern to return."

Skywarp stared down at the jar, silent.

Thundercracker sighed. "I won't make you use it, but… I think it's time."

Skywarp's voice was rough when he answered. "Yeah. You're right." His legs folded beneath him as he sat beside the bucket. "Let's get this over with."

Skywarp was the picture of abject misery as Thundercracker picked up a worn mesh cloth, dipped it in the gel, and began smoothing it across the back of his wing. The first layer left a faint shimmer across the metal. At the second, the purple of the brand started to fade, replaced by the light grey hue of the nanites gel. It took another couple coats before the brand was completely obscured, leaving a thick grey paste atop the thin plating. Then, shifting over, Thundercracker began on his other wing.

Starscream reached up and touched the purple brand on Skyfire's chest. "This was really important to you, wasn't it?" he said.

Skyfire nodded. "Yes. More to them than me, but we were with the Decepticons for many decavorns. It is… difficult to give that up."

"Will you miss it?"

Skyfire shrugged. "It will certainly be strange without it," he mused.

"That's not what I asked."

This time, Skyfire gave it more thought before answering. "No," he said. "I worry for the mecha still trapped in the flagship-many of them have good sparks, despite the war—but I never enjoyed my involvement. I certainly won't miss being trapped on the same base as Megatron."

Starscream hummed thoughtfully. They both watched Thundercracker finish applying the nanites mixture. Starscream's face grew troubled.

"I don't understand it," Starscream said. "I've heard what Megatron's done. Why are you still so loyal that you can barely stomach taking off the brand? Why did you wait so long before leaving?"

He sounded honestly confused, as if he couldn't fathom why anyone would have chosen to stay with the Decepticons. And to him, who had only seen the worst of them, it must have seemed so clear-cut.

"Because it used to mean something better, and we all sacrificed so much for it," Skyfire said. "It was difficult to accept how twisted it eventually became."

"Why didn't you leave after it got worse? When you realized what Megatron really was?"

Skyfire had wondered that occasionally himself, on dark nights when the war seemed pointless and he was sick of witnessing mech after mech deactivate. It always came back to the same answer.

"The war spread everywhere. By the time Megatron showed his true colors, being a Neutral was a death sentence. Besides, defectors were often hunted down. It could get... messy."

He tried not to think about some of the executions they'd broadcasted or what would happen if the Decepticons ever caught up with them again. Even if it were possible, e wouldn't have changed any of the choices he'd made since getting captured."I'm glad you got the chance to leave," Starscream said quietly.

Skyfire's response was even softer. "So am I."

A second, unused cloth hung on the side of the bucket. Skyfire reached towards it, mostly to distract himself from thoughts that were rapidly turning morbid.

Starscream snagged the cloth before Skyfire could. "Let me."

He dipped it into the gel, making a face at the texture. Then Starscream started to work. The nanite gel was colder than Skyfire expected. Each swipe of the cloth left a lingering chill on his plating as it dried. Starscream meticulously followed each line of the brand, determined not to smudge any on the rest of his plating or make the temporary patch asymmetrical. It seemed like no time at all before Starscream was smoothing on the last layer.

"Done," said Starscream. He hung the used cloth along the edge of the bucket. A couple spots of liquid had splashed up his arm during the process, and Starscream wiped them away with a scowl. Thundercracker and Skywarp had since switched places, and Skywarp was halfway through the first wing.

Silently, Starscream joined them. He grimaced as he reached into the bucket again. Between the two of them, it wasn't long before Thundercracker was done as well. He rattled his wings with an uncomfortable frown; undoubtedly, the hardened gel, which was already irritating Skyfire's chest, felt worse on the thinner plating of his wings. Skywarp began picking at the drying grey patch almost immediately, until Thundercracker caught his arm.

"It needs time to work," he said. "Give it another breem to absorb, and you can brush off whatever's left,"

Skywarp gave an annoyed grumble, but he stopped touching his wings. His wingtips kept twitching.

Skyfire waited the full breem before touching the hardened gel, carefully at first then with more confidence. The edges had already started to separate from his plating, and the rest flaked off easily. After the last bits of dried gel crumbled off, Skyfire couldn't stop staring at the space left behind. It looked so… bare. Instead of the familiar, harsh lines of the brand he'd worn for millennia, there was only blank, grey metal. It stood out against the bright white of the rest of his chest. The disabled nanites seemed only marginally different from the grey of deactivation.

Skywarp and Thundercracker helped each other clean the back of their wings. Skywarp couldn't seem to stop touching the blank grey patches. He rubbed across the empty metal again and again, as if unable to believe the brand was actually gone. Thundercracker only allowed himself to trace the bare patch once before settling his hands firmly against his sides and standing up.

"It's late, and it's been a long day," he said. "Let's get some recharge."

They left the bucket and sullied rags in the corner. Someone had been considerate enough to furnish the room with two oversized berths. Whoever had arranged the rooms had known about a Trine's almost compulsive need to share a berth, recharging with wings and limbs tangled together.

Predictable, Skywarp and Thundercracker fell into the same berth, the one closest to the center of the room. Starscream stepped forward to join them, but he hesitated, glancing back at Skyfire. He didn't need to say anything for Skyfire to understand what he was debating.

"Go ahead," Skyfire said. "I know how much you've missed them; I won't be insulted if you choose to recharge with them tonight."

"And tomorrow?" Starscream asked.

Skyfire broke eye contact, staring downward instead. "It's fine," he said, willing it to be true. He'd spent the last several decavorns sleeping alone. He may have grown used to having Starscream curled up against him at night, but he wouldn't deprive Starscream of a chance to reinforce the Trinebond.

Starscream cast a critical eye across the room before lighting up. "Or we could just drag your berth over and negate the need to choose at all."

He didn't even wait before walking over and doing just that. Thundercracker and Skywarp stirred at the resulting screech but settled quickly back down. Starscream didn't stop until the berths were flush against each other then stared at Skyfire expectantly.

Skyfire hesitated. Close as he'd grown to the other Seekers, they'd only rarely shared a berth, when the strain of the war grew too much to sleep alone. Joining them now felt like intruding. Then Skywarp, glancing over to see what the hold-up was, waved him over, and Skyfire felt sheepish for questioning his welcome. Starscream stayed standing until Skyfire laid down then crawled between him and his trinemates. He gave a happy little sigh as he found his place, back pressed against him with wings folded down and limbs tangled with Skywarp's. He radiated happiness so strongly that it was impossible to ignore. Skyfire fell asleep quickly.

-/-

  
The next morning Starscream was practically vibrating with pent-up energy. He was the first one to online, and the excited pulses of his spark soon roused the rest of them. Skywarp groaned and flopped over on the bed, halfheartedly trying to tug Starscream back down to relax, but Starscream easily danced out of his way. Of course, that put him in Skyfire's range, and it was easy to reach over and pin him down.

"C'mon!" Starsream whined, pushing against Skyfire's arm. "I've barely seen anything since waking up, and I'm sick of doing nothing. Do you think they'll let us explore?"

With a groan, Skywarp gave up on getting anymore rest. "Even if they do, it wouldn't matter," he grumbled. "We're in a military base on a primitive organic planet. All you got to gawk at are Autobots, walls, and dirt."

"And a science lab. Can't forget that," Starscream chirped. The thought of that was enough to make Starscream flutter with excitement again.

"Not now though!" Skywarp said. "I'm not gonna deal with Autobots first thing in the morning."

Starscream paused. "You're right. We should get some energon first."

Skywarp groaned. "Meaning we have to go to the rec room. The one filled with slagging Autobots."

Starscream nodded, and Skyfire joined Thundercracker in groaning. Starscream took advantage of the distraction to slip free from Skyfire's grasp.

Grumbling the entire way, Skywarp rose to join him. He was rubbing at his face and glancing at the door. "It almost makes me miss the other cell," he said. "At least there we didn't have to deal with the rest of the ship. Wanna bet Jazz planned it this way to screw with us?"

"More likely he wanted to ensure we'll be visible instead of camping out in our room for the next vorn," Skyfire said. After all, what kind of SpecOps commander would let an opportunity like this pass him by? The defection of a High Command Officer was among the most exciting things to happen for vorns, and what better way to rub it in Megatron's face than to have them seen moving unrestrained through the ship?

Skyfire wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep and avoid worrying about the Autobots for a little longer. His frame was starting to protest the low energy, though, and the smaller Seekers were probably feeling the hunger more. With a great, heaving sigh, Skyfire pushed himself upright.

"How do we even do this?" he asked. "Do we just knock, or-"  
He trailed off as Starscream walked right up to rap on the door. He stepped back and waited for the door to open, arms crossed as if annoyed by how the delay was inconveniencing _him_. Skyfire stiffled a laugh, though he couldn't stop the swirl of nervousness that swiftly sent him and the other two to Starscream's side. As the two Seekers moved, the light reflected off the blank patches on their wings. The empty spots were just as stark as they'd been the night before, and the sight of them sent a brief ache through Skyfire's chest

The door opened within a half breem, and Skyfire relaxed. Bluestreak. He could handle Bluestreak.

The Praxian smiled when his optics met Skyfire's. Then his gaze drifted behind him, and the smile turned brittle.  
Surprisingly, Starscream broke the silence first. "Bluestreak, right?" he said, stepping forward. "I remember you from before."

Bluestreak's optics locked on him, and he seemed to recover. "Yeah! It was a a weird situation though, and we didn't get much chance to talk. Sorry about that! I really don't know much about you, though there's _tons_ of rumors considering how you showed up and all that."

Bluestreak seemed grateful to latch onto Starscream's offer of conversation. He was talking faster than Skyfire remembered, though, and jumping sporadically from topic to topic. His hands moved restlessly, like he'd forgotten how to keep them still. At first, Skyfire and Starscream added the occassional comment or question, but Bluestreak barely seemed to notice when they said something, or when they stopped. He kept rambling regardless.

At Starscream's prodding, Skyfire let himself fall to the back of their group, away from Bluestreak.

"Is he always like this?" Starscream hissed.

Skyfire hesitated, "He's always... exhuberant, but I haven't seen him like this before," he said. "He seems unsettled. Nervous, maybe."

Quietly, Skyfire hoped he was alright. The Praxian was a good mech, despite the uncomfortable way in which they'd met. During those hours in the brig, Skyfire had grown used to Bluestreak's chatter. It had always seemed cheerful before, but now that seemed to be missing.

Before Skyfire had a chance to rejoin Bluestreak, they arrived. Bluestreak entered first. The rest of them hesitated in the doorway. The room held only a small scattering of Autobots. It was still too many.

The first mech to catch see them dropped his energon cube in surprise. The resulting clatter drew the attention of the rest of his table, and they stared. Their conversations crashed to a halt. The silence rippled outward as more mecha looked over until not a single mech in the room was still speaking. Some of their faces were neutral, others were carefully guarded, and a handful downright hostile.  
The energon dispenser suddenly seemed very far away.

They must have made quite a sight. Three Seekers and a Shuttle, standing motionless in the doorway as an entire room full of Autobots gaped at them. Then Starscream huffed and stepped forward, head and wings held high.

Skyfire recognized that walk. More of a strut, really. It was the same walk the Seeker had perfected in the walls of the Academy, surrounded by mecha who'd believed a Warbuild had no place among scientists. Bemused, Bluestreak let Starscream take the lead.  
Skywarp and Thundercracker lurched into motion to avoid being left behind. They quickly caught up and fell into formation behind Starscream, leaving Skyfire to bring up the rear. Muttered conversation sprung up around them. Skyfire did his best to ignore them, focusing on the energon dispenser instead.

They collected their energon allotments quickly then abandoned the dispenser for a less crowded area of the room. Starscream took the lead again. Instead of heading back to their quarters, he made his way towards the empty tables near the back of the room. Skyfire sent the exit a longing glance but, like the other two Seekers, he followed. Starscream chose one of the tables in the corner, far from any other mech, and sat down with his wings facing the wall.

Skyfire leaned down beside Starscream's head. "Why here?" he murmured.  
Starscream didn't bother lowering his voice. "I'm not letting anyone scare us into hiding in our room. We have as much a right to be here as they do."

He said it with complete conviction, as if they weren't three former Decepticons and a Neutral squatting inside the Autobot flagship. He did have a point though—they were allowed, no, required, to come to the rec room for energon now. He was relieved to find that, when they did nothing more interesting than sip their energon and speak quietly, the crowd soon lost interest. Bluestreak sat slightly apart from them, with at least one empty chair between him and the others. Occassionally Skyfire or Starscream drew him intro a conversation.

Every time the rec room door opened, Skyfire's eyes darted over to see who was entering. Skywarp and Thundercracker did the same, though Starscream seemed content to ignore the rest of the room. A few breems into their visit, Skyfire glanced up as the door slid open and stilled when he saw the Twins enter. They made a beeline towards their table without even glancing at the energon dispenser, weaving in and out of stray chairs and tables.

Distracted and with his back to the door, Bluestreak didn't notice the oncoming mecha until they were almost directly behind him. His doorwings twitched, and he stopped speaking mid word. Unlike the rest of them, his face lit up when he caught sight of the famous Frontliners.

"Sideswipe! Sunstreaker! I thought you guys were busy!" he exclaimed. He positively beamed at the new arrivals with what seemed like his first true smile of the night.

Sideswipe returned the smile, but his optics remained trained on Thundercracker and Skywarp. Instead of sitting down, they flanked the Praxian with Sideswipe half sprawled against Bluestreak's side. Sunstreaker kept a noticeable distance between his plating and anyone else's, and he didn't even pretend to be happy about joining them. The effect was more protective than friendly.

"Never too busy to spare a visit for our Bluestreak!" Sideswipe said, giving Bluestreak an affectionate nudge on the shoulder. Skyfire stared. Bluestreak, apparently, was friends with the Twins. And they had come running at the news that their Praxian was near former 'Cons.

Thundercracker and Skywarp shared an uneasy glance that trailed, almost in unison, over to Starscream. Then Skywarp swallowed the last dregs of his cube and stood up, sending a rather obviously fake smile around the table. "Well! If the rest of you are done, then would you like to head back to the-"

"No," Starscream cut in. "It would be rude to leave without even introducing ourselves to our new guests."

He looked around the table, as if daring someone to contradict him. To his right, Thundercracker had offlined his optics and looked like he was hoping that, if he just wished hard enough, the whole situation would disappear. Skywarp slowly sat back down, giving Starscream a plaintive stare, but the other Seeker didn't budge. He'd always hated anything that stank of running away.

"Are you planning on just standing there all cycle?" Starscream asked, giving the Twins an obviously unimpressed once-over. "Either go grab some energon or sit down-you're blocking my view of the rest of the room."

Skyfire almost choked at the sheer impudence in his voice. Starscream had no idea who he'd just challenged; except, knowing Starscream, he'd have said the same thing regardless. A flicker of surprise crossed Sideswipe's face, but it didn't last long before the Frontliner covered it up with his casual bravado. "Thanks for the invitation," he said, pulling out a chair beside Bluestreak and flopping in as if that had been his plan the whole time.

His twin grabbed a chair on Bluestreak's other side, leaving Skyfire barely an arms width away. The mech only stared at him a moment, as if daring him to move any closer, before refocusing his glare on the Seekers. Obviously, despite his size, Skyfire didn't register as much of a threat. Pretty accurate, considering the Twins could probably eviscerate him in less than a breem.

"This is Sideswipe and Sunstreaker," Bluestreak introduced, pointing at each of them. "Not that the three of you wouldn't, uh, know them, but I don't think Starscream's met them yet."

He flashed an almost embarrassed grin. Then Bluestreak clapped his hand and changed the subject.

Having the Twins there seemed to have calmed whatever had been unsettling Bluestreak. He still seemed more on-edge than normal, but it no longer seemed like he was struggling. He even started deescalting the strange situation. Whenever the Twins said something a bit too blatantly hostile or the Seekers ran out of neutral responses, Bluestreak stepped in to fill the silence. He even managed to get Sunstreaker involved in a debate about the relative merits of Earthen supplies versus their own.

Skyfire wouldn't quite go so far as to call it pleasant, but the conversation was at least tolerable. With the occasional glare and thinly veiled threat, of course, but that was hardly worth mentioning.

The rec-coom was just starting to fill in when they decided to leave. This time, Starscream didn't argue when Thundercracker suggested it; even he seemed rather unnerved by the idea of being stuck among a crowd of Autobots.

When Bluestreak stood to join them, Sideswipe pushed him back down. "Don't worry Blue, I got this!" he said. "You're shift's ending soon right? I'm sure nobody'll be upset if we switch off for the last couple breems."

Bluestreak started to protest, but Sideswipe stopped him before he really got going. He turned to the Seekers. "Well?" he said. "Are we going?"

They left. Starscream glanced back once before passing through the doorway, looking back to where Bluestreak was chatting away at Sunstreaker. As they watched, he even managed to get Sunstreaker, who'd relaxed minutely at their absence, to crack a small, almost invisible smile.

They walked quickly through the hallways, where more Autobots were mulling about than before. They stared, but nobody stopped them. For the most part they walked in silence, broken by the occassional question from Starscream or comment from Sideswipe.  
Reaching their room again was a relief. Sideswipe left them at the door, and Skyfire felt himself relax for the first time in a cycle when the door slid closed. Thundercracker continued to inspect the door, as if attempting to determine how secure it was, while Skywarp flopped down onto the berth with a loud groan.

"Well. That was...not bad for a first try," Skyfire ventured into the somewhat awkward silence.

The statement helped break the lingering tension in the room. Skywarp snorted, propping himself back up on his elbows. "We successfully got some energon, nobody tried to attack us, and the worst we got was some glares and a couple implied threats. We even had a conversation with the same crazy mecha who were trying to rip our wings off for trophies a couple a orns ago! I'd say that was pretty slagging fantastic."

He and Thundercracker nodded along, but Starscream stared at Skywarp like he'd gone insane. "Wait, _rip your wins off for trophies_?" he shouted. Shrieked, really.

His horrified face really shouldn't have been funny, but it somehow managed to set them all off in a way that was at least half hysterical.

Skywarp was still chuckling lightly when he spoke. "Alright, maybe not for trophies-even they're probably not that macabre-but they've got a reputation, and they're some of the only grounders who specialize in taking down Seekers." He smirked. "We always gave as good as we got when they went after us though."

Strangely, that didn't seem to help calm Starscream down. "This is serious! They really tried to deactivate you?"  
"Well, yeah. They're Autobots," he said, as if that explained everything. Which, to anyone who'd lived through the war, made perfect sense. To Starscream, not so much.

"Just how many mecha here have tried to kill you?" he asked, obviously dreading the answer.

"Well…" Skywarp started, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He was enjoying this far too much; probably getting revenge for Starscream forcing them to stay and chat in the first place. "If you take into account how long the war's been and how often we've fought since arriving on this planet, then just about everyone has probably tried their luck at one time or another. The Twins are only special 'cause they invented a really annoying way to fight flyers, so we went up against each other a lot."

At Starscream's strangled sound, he shrugged. "It was war. Nothing personal."

Taking a few steps to the side, Starscream sat down heavily on the berth besides Skywarp. The purple Seeker gave him a few comforting pats on the wing, humoring his shock over what was—to him—completely normal.

"Is that why they came over?" Starscream asked, sounding more indignant than anything and only partially horrified, which was an improvement.

A shrug. "Probably part of it. I'm sure they felt some sort of responsibility or whatever to check in on us, make sure we weren't planning some nefarious plot." He stopped, frowned. "They seemed particularly protective of Bluestreak though. I never heard any rumors of the three of them being close, but who the slag knows what's going on with the grunts."

Skywarp looked towards Skyfire. "Did you meet him before? He seemed more comfortable with you."

"I spoke with Bluestreak quite a bit while he was on guard duty," Skyfire answered. "He is a… surprisingly friendly mech, and he has expressed concern for our well-being a few times."

"Huh. Weird."

Without even looking up, Starscream grumbled, "At least there's one nice mech among the slaggers who've tried to deactivate you."

Skywarp burst out laughing. He kept laughing until it looked like Starscream would pounce on him in frustration. "Bluestreak's just as deadly as the rest of them. He's a Sharpshooter, the best one the Autobots have, and I'm willing to bet he's been the cause of some pretty spectacular crashes." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Actually, next to the Twins, he was probably one of the most dangerous Autobots for any Flyer."

Starscream looked up just enough to fix Skywarp with a horrified look before letting his helm thump back down. "I give up," he groaned, voice muffled by the berth. "Everybody, every slagging person, we meet wants to kill us."

"You get used to it. Besides, it's wanted now-past tense! That's a big improvement!"

Starscream glared, as if incredulous that Skywarp had even said that. "You didn't seem so sure about that in the rec room. Or was there another reason you wanted to leave soon as you saw those frontliners sit down?"

Skywarp winced. "Alright, so maybe decavorns of trying to slag each other doesn't go away overnight. At least they're not technically allowed to harm us anymore."

"Great. I feel so reassured. Is that why Bluestreak was acting all weird around us?"

Skywarp froze, and the smile dropped from his face. "No," he said. "That was something different, from earlier in the war. Bluestreak's a Praxian, and those guys have good reason to be uneasy around Seekers."

Skyfire paled too as he made the connection. Praxus. Of course. The destruction of the city had been so long ago, before Thundercracker had even been promoted into the main army, that Skyfire had completely forgotten the implications. Starscream, however, didn't have that background, and he seemed more upset than anything.

"So the mech just doesn't like Seekers?" he said, a sneer twisting his face.

"It's alright, Star. This isn't like the Academy," Skyfire said, trying to placate him. He knew what Starscream was remembering; there had been plenty of mecha in Iacon who hadn't liked the look of mecha with wings, and Starscream had gotten into many fights because of it. This was different. Starscream didn't know that though.

"If that guy's got a problem with Seekers, then I deserve to-"

Thundercracker cut him off. "Praxus was destroyed," he said, "and Seekers played an important part in it. That's why he was uncomfortable."

With that, Thundercracker turned away from them. Skyfire felt Starscream's anger melt away into shock and confusion. He started to say something, but Skyfire stopped him.

"Later," he said. "It's a difficult topic."

Especially for Thundercracker. Neither of the two had been directly involved in the attack, but they'd been there for the celebrations. Praxus hadn't been the first city destroyed, but it had been the first Neutral one. They'd been Autobot sympathizers and a strategic threat and a dozen other excuses.

They were quiet for a long time after that.

~.*.~

 

**AN:** So, quick life update! So, I've officially graduated from College now (My senior project involved short stories; it was great). I'm currently backpacking across Europe, and I'll be starting medical school in August. I'm hoping to get the bulk of this story finished before med school starts, though wifi is a bit spotty right now! 


	23. Sciencebots

Jazz visited them in the morning. He was polite enough to knock, though not enough to wait for an answer. Skyfire and the others barely had time to stand and face the door before Jazz unlocked it himself and waltzed in.

"Hey, mechs!" Jazz said, smiling brightly. "You settling in alright?"

"Fine," Thundercracker said, hands stiff at his side. "Was there something you wanted?"

Jazz tisked at him. "Izzat any way to greet a visitor? An' here I was tryin' ta be friendly!"

Thundercracker just stared at the Saboteur and didn't answer. Skywarp fell into position at his side, and Starscream joined them a moment later. Skyfire stayed where he was, hovering behind them.

Jazz didn't let the silence bother him. He chuckled, as if indulging them, and said, "So, a little birdie told me something interestin'. Seems you mecha have an interest in energon production. Or, two of ya at least."

He met Skyfire's optics first, then his gaze slid over to Starscream. Thundercracker shifted, putting himself further between the two.

"I'm sure a simple interest isn't enough to warrant your attention," Thundercracker said. "Was there anything else?"

 Starscream glared at Thundercracker and opened his mouth, probably to argue about said 'simple interest,' but a sharp motion from Thundercracker silenced him.

Jazz's visor followed the motion, and he smiled. "Nah, that's 'bout it. I wouldn't want ya gettin' bored here, right? An’ hey, all the better if ya’d enjoy doin’ something useful with yer time instead.”

"If there’s nothing else, I'd appreciate it if you left."

Jazz put his hand over his chest. "Are ya tryin' ta get rid of me? I'm hurt." He turned his head. "What bout you guys? Ya sure?"

Skyfire nodded. "We were planning a trip for our morning energon soon, if you'll dismiss us."

Jazz's smile didn't falter as he nodded. With a flourish, he pulled a thick roll of paper out of his subspace and laid it on the table. "Some schematics of the lab’s newest design fer solar energy. Imma just leave it here, in case ya change yer mind. No extra guards, no movin’ around, no funny business at all. Just let me know if ya find anythin interestin', alright?" 

He left, strutting that same cheerful walk and closing the door behind him. Skyfire could feel the tension dissipating as they were left alone.

"I don't like that mech," Skywarp grumbled. "He's too sneaky."

Skywarp swiped the roll of paper Jazz had left on the table and unrolled it, revealing the crisp lines and glyphs of a proper Cybertronian schematic. Skyfire looked over his shoulder, interested, but Starscream barely spared the paper a glance. Instead, he rounded on Thundercracker.

"What was _tha_ t about?" he said.

Thundercracker didn't flinch. "I wanted him out of here as soon as possible." His optics darted towards the schematic. "Working on the plans shouldn’t be a problem, but-"

Starscream's harsh laugh silenced him. "That’s not what I was talking about. Your spark got _weird_ as soon as Jazz came in. And especially when he got close. Why?"

Skyfire heard Thundercracker's surprised intake of air from where he was standing, and he glimpsed Thundercracker's expression, oddly vulnerable, before the Seeker regained his composure.

"I don't know what you're-"

"You're doing it again," Starscream interrupted. "Your spark feels weird, like you're nervous or-" He stopped speaking and slapped Thundercracker on the arm. "Don't block me! That's even worse!"

"He's a dangerous mech. Of course I'm uneasy around him."

Starscream waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before. I remember what you guys felt like around the Twins though, and I felt Warp's reaction to Jazz too. And they didn't feel like that."

Concern growing, Skyfire stepped forward, placing a hand on Thundercracker's shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Did something happen between you two?"

Skywarp wasn't far behind. "TC? Are you alright?"

Thundercracker's optics darted between the three of them. His mouth opened and closed, and then he slumped.

"Nothing I didn't volunteer for," he said. "I'm handling it."

"So something did happen?"

Thundercracker looked away. "When we arrived, there were some misgivings about our motivations. I consented to a processor scan to ensure there would be no doubts about our purpose here." 

The ensuing silence was broken by Starscream's incensed shriek. "They _what_? Processor scans are-"

"-perfectly legal during wartime. Which it is," Thundercracker finished for him. "Unpleasant, yes, but sometimes necessary."

“That doesn’t make it right!”

Skyfire was inclined to agree. Processer scans were invasive. It meant opening your thoughts and memories up to a stranger; suppressing your firewalls and defenses to let them rummage around freely. Before the war, they’d been almost unheard of and very much illegal. Now, they’d become a tool of hackers and interrogators.. Almost never undergone voluntarily.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Skyfire asked.

“It was a personal decision, and not one that was up for discussion.” His optics grew hard when he looked back up, determined. “It was my choice, and I’d do it again. We need the Autobots to believe us. Even Jazz can’t doubt what he found.”

Starscream growled. “That doesn’t mean _you_ needed to-”

“It’s _done,_ Star!” Thundercracker snapped. “Let it go!”

Even through the secondary bond, Skyfire could feel the jolt of emotion that accompanied Thundercracker’s words. Starscream’s mouth snapped closed on his protest, and concern overshadowed anger for a moment. He looked away, and his optics caught on the schematics laying on the table. Starscream snarled and stalked over, snatching the pad of paper off the table.

“Starscream?” Skyfire asked.

Starscream’s hands tensed, and in one deliberate motion he tore the schematics clean down the center. He bared his teeth in a smile and shifted his grip to tear it again.

“Star, stop!” Skyfire said, lurching forward to stop him. “What are you doing?”

Starscream glared up at him. “I’m not doing a single slagging thing to help that mech. His energon converter can rust for all I care!”

Starscream resisted Skyfire attempts to pull the papers free from his claws. He didn’t relent until Thundercracker joined them. Only then did he let the other Seeker free the schematics from his fingers. Thundercracker carefully smoothed the spots where Starscream’s grip had crumpled the material, and he laid them back on the table.

“I know you miss it, and you’re bored to rusting with nothing to do,” Thundercracker said. He kept talking over Starscream’s protests. “We still need as much goodwill as we can gain from the Autobots. This can be part of it.”

Starscream crossed his arms. “I won’t do it,” he said.

“That’s alright. Think about it, though. And don’t do anything you’ll regret later.”

Thundercracker rolled the schematics back up, careful of the torn edges, and set it carefully on the edge of the table. With one last glance at Starscream, he stepped away. Instead of lunging for it again, Starscream set about deliberately ignoring the table and the documents on top of it

-/-

The trip for morning energon was awkward. Starscream was sulking without an outlet for his frustration or boredom, and Thundercracker was still quiet. Their current guard, a large Grounder, following behind them certainly didn’t help.

Skywarp kept up some chatter to fill the silence, but even he was having some trouble. None of them were much in the mood for conversation. This time, when they reached the rec room, there were only a few clusters of Autobots at the tables. All of them stared when their group entered, but the Flyers didn’t stop in the doorway. They grabbed their energon, sat down, and tried to ignore the spectacle they were apparently making of themselves.

Starscream’s spark darkened with anger as the meal wore on. The whispers were quiet, but the furtive glances and occasional mention of Seekers were obvious. Starscream’s grip on his cube tightened with every hushed voice and squeaking chair until he slammed his cube down and twisted around in his chair.

“Will you slagging shut up already? We can hear you!” he shouted at the nearest—and loudest—table. “If you’ve got something to say, say it to my slagging face!”

The room fell silent. Some of the minibots at the table were frozen with their mouths open, staring at Starscream.

“Damn, so that’s why he’s trined with ‘Cons,” one of them whispered.

Starscream shot out of his seat, and only Skyfire’s hand stopped him from lunging towards the offending minibot.

“ _What_ did you say half-bit?” he shouted, straining against Skyfire’s hand.

The minibot shouted something else, but Skyfire ignored it as he stood up. “Alright, time to leave,” he said. He’d gotten dragged into enough fights to know where this was going. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp seemed to agree as they joined him in herding Starscream away. Starscream didn’t resist—much—but he did keep shouting at the minibots until they left the room. Skyfire was almost surprised the one ‘bot didn’t follow him, considering how enthusiastically he was shouting back. The mech guarding them didn’t say anything as he followed them out, but Skyfire could have sworn he was hiding a smile.

Starscream quieted down once the door closed behind them. He managed to hold his silence until they were alone in their room again.

“Fraggers,” Starscream grumbled. “I’m sick of them whispering like that.”

Skyfire stifled a laugh, and Starscream turned on him.

“What?”

“You were annoyed by the whispers, so you turned it into shouting?”

“Well, _yeah._ At least then everyone’s honest ‘bout what’s going on!”

This time, Skyfire really did laugh. Starscream puffed up, and Skyfire tried to wave away his annoyance. “No, it’s good. It’s nice to see someone being so forthright about what they’re doing. I’d missed that.”

Even among the Decepticons, manipulation and backstabbing had been commonplace. Starscream had always disliked those kinds of powerplays though; he preferred more overt confrontations. They’d gotten into a lot of fights in Iacon.

Thundercracker sighed. “At least try to avoid getting in any fights or starting any feuds, alright?”

Starscream raised an eyebrow. “I can feel your emotions, remember? They were bothering you too, and you certainly weren’t complaining when I got those slaggers to stop trying to hide.”

Skywarp started to laugh, and Thundercracker rolled his optics. “Yes, fine, they deserved to get called out. Don’t forget to be careful though.”

Starscream made the appropriate sounds of agreement, though they could all feel how unrepentant he was. Thundercracker sighed, patted Starscream on the shoulder, and flopped down on the berth.

 -/-

Several cycles passed without incidence. Then everyone froze when somebody knocked on the door again. Nobody spoke, and they all stared, waiting for the door to open. This time it didn't, and the knock came again.

"Should we answer it?" Skywarp whispered.

"I suppose so," Skyfire said. Nobody moved and, with a sound that was almost a laugh, Skyfire walked over himself. The door opened at his touch, and he looked down to find Bluestreak in the doorway. He cracked a smile.

"Skyfire! Hey! Are you up for company? I wanted to say hi and see how everything's going!"

Sideswipe was by Bluestreak’s side, looking vaguely miffed. It took Skyfire a moment to regain his composure himself, and then he nodded.

"Some company would be welcome. Our quarters would be rather cramped though; would we be able to go somewhere else?"

Bluestreak nodded vigorously. "There's a common room a couple hallways over. Not many people go there, especially 'round this time, 'cause it's a bit out of the way. The chairs are nice though! And it's a lot quieter than the rec room or bigger spaces, which is really nice 'specially if you want some private time."

His optics darted behind Skyfire's frame, to where Thundercracker and Skywarp were silently standing. His smile froze and wavered for a moment before steadying. He still looked nervous, but there was a new determination there as well.

Skyfire nodded. "That sounds pleasant," he said. He turned to the Seekers. "What do you think?"

Starscream snorted. "I think I'm ready to get out of this room. I'd rather get outta the ship completely, but a different room is a start."

His Trinemates nodded as well, and Skyfire turned back to Bluestreak. "Lead the way," he said. 

Having one of the Twins there still put him on edge as they walked--and he could tell the Seekers felt the same way--but it was very nice to be out of the room again. Even better to be going somewhere that wasn't the rec-room, where there wouldn't be nearly as many mecha staring.

Bluestreak fell into step beside Starscream as they walked, ignoring the way Skywarp and Thundercracker immediately started staring.

“So I heard you and Skyfire were interplanetary explorers, which is really cool by the way. What does that even mean though? I mean, I’m sure it has loads to do with navigation and energon production and xenobiology and all that stuff, but how does it work?”

Bluestreak hit on the right topic, because Starscream lit right up. Starscream had clawed his way into being acknowledged as a scientist, and he always loved getting the chance to brag. “Skyfire was always more interested in the xenobiology bits, but I was the better one at navigation. How much do you know about that?”

“Not much at all! I hadn’t ever left Cybertron before the war, and I never had the processer for the calculations. The Officers don’t bother telling us all the fiddly details, just where we’re going and when and all that. Not that I minded!”

Starscream nodded along. “Yeah, even in the Golden Age not many mecha bothered to learn. Having a good map is real important, of course, and specialized scanners are absolutely critical once you start going into unexplored sectors like Skyfire and I did.”

Bluestreak was an unexpectedly good audience as Starscream talked about the various dangers of space and their strategies for avoiding them. He was getting into some of the more interesting—and deadly—planets they’d stumbled across when they reached the common area.

The room was empty when they entered. It was a rather basic area: one sizeable table with seats and a couple couches around the edge. Bluestreak sat down first, pulling Starscream into the chair next to him. Skyfire took the chair next to his partner, and Sideswipe grabbed the one on Bluestreak’s other side. Thundercracker and Skywarp hesitated in the doorway, and then Thundercracker turned towards the couches.

“We’ll let you guys get reacquainted,” he said.

Starscream frowned, and his wings flared slightly upwards. “No. There’s still room; come over here with the rest of us.”

Thundercracker’s optics darted towards Bluestreak. “I really don’t think-”

“You’re my Trinemates. Sit at the slagging table,” Starscream said, interrupting him.

Skyfire could see Thundercracker wavering, caught between pleasing his Trinemate and avoiding further conflict with the Praxian.

Unexpectedly, Bluestreak spoke up next. “You can join us,” he said. His voice was faintly stilted, though still quite a bit better than what Skyfire would have expected. “I think Sideswipe has a couple gaming decks for us too.”

Sideswipe straightened, and a colorful deck of cards appeared in his hands. “Yeah, I got a couple sets on me. D’you guys know how to play Pazaak?” 

Thundercracker and Skywarp carefully sat down as Sideswipe started to explain the game, which only Skywarp seemed to be familiar with. It involved holocards with images of notable mecha from either side of the war.  Starscream was particularly fascinated by the pictures, especially the ranking system based on each mech’s position and skill level. Skyfire was not surprised to see that Thundercracker and the Twins had some of the highest ranked cards or that Skyfire hadn’t merited one at all  

Whoever had designed the cards definitely had an Autobot slant, though they were impressively neutral in most of the descriptions. The Megatron card, however, was particularly vivid. Starscream laughed aloud when he plucked it from the center pile.

“A mech with deep seated insecurities, which he compensated for with the oversized cannon he lugs round on his wrist,” he read aloud as he played the card.

Skywarp and Sideswipe were both skilled at the game, which he’d expected, but Bluestreak was also surprisingly good. Skyfire quickly found himself in last place, not that he minded. The game had helped everyone relax, and it was nice to see the rough edge in Bluestreak’s optics soften. Eventually, he stopped flinching when he looked at Thundercracker or Skywarp.  

Sideswipe won another hand by playing Bumblebees card—a two pointer—and, as he collected the pile, he said, “So, I heard you got in a shouting match with Cliff jumper earlier. He’s been grumbling ‘bout it all day.”

Starscream’s wings stiffened. “So what? The mech deserved it.”

Sideswipe laughed. “I’m sure he did! That minibot’s a menace. I can’t tell you how many times he’s started fights, and over the stupidest things too! Nah, I wanted to congratulate you. It’s always a pleasure to hear someone took him down a notch.”

Starscream stilled, and a pleased embarrassment curled through his spark. “Thanks, I guess,” he grumbled as he looked back down at his cards. “Would be nice if all the other mecha would stop whispering ‘bout us every time we got energon.”

They managed to fit in a few more hands before Sideswipe called it quits. “Sunny’s getting off-shift soon, and we’re gonna meet him after,” he said as he gathered the cards. He nudged Bluestreak. “Why don’t you go catch up with him? You know how he gets after a messy patrol, and I can walk these mech back to their room.”

Bluestreak grinned and nodded. “Sure! I’ll go grab the detailing supplies too, in case he got scraped up again. I’m sure he’d really appreciate that!”

Bluestreak kept chattering until they split at the hallway, and it only took a klik for Sideswipe to lead them back. He stopped in front of their door and turned to face them.

“Bluestreak’s a good mech, you know? One of the best I’ve ever met.”

He looked at each of them, but his optics settled on Skywarp and Thundercracker. Skyfire’s unease grew.

"An' you should know that Blue's a good friend of me and my brother. So, if you do anything to harm him, you'll have to deal with us. Blue's not much into revenge, but, well," he flashed a smile that was mostly teeth. "He's a better mech than we are.'

Skyfire swallowed. He tightened his hand on Starscream's shoulder. He was relieved when Thundercracker answered. "We have no intention of causing harm to Bluestreak or any other Autobot. We're not hiding anything," he said. Sideswipe grinned and patted Thundercracker on his shoulder. "Well then, we shouldn't have any problems, right?" He left whistling, and Skyfire was glad to see him go.

-/-

A couple cycles into the afternoon, Starscream started eyeing the schematics Jazz had left. It was still sitting on the edge of the table, folded up neatly. Whenever one of them caught him looking, Starscream always pretended he hadn't been staring and that he wasn't bored stiff by the datapad he was trying to read. Thundercracker had come to Skyfire with a question about Bluestreak, and they were having a quiet conversation about the various mecha Skyfire had interacted with in his time in the Ark or Thundercracker on the battlefield. Skywarp was fiddling with his own datapad, only partially paying attention. The next time Starscream stared at the schematics, Skywarp groaned and let the datapad he was holding drop with a groan.

"Will you just _look_ at it already?" he said, turning to face Starscream. "We all can feel you want to."  

Starscream raised his datapad higher. "No. I'm not gonna do _anything_ to help that mech."

"C'mon, it's an energon converter, not some nefarious private project."

"And I won’t do it!"

Skywarp groaned again and muttered something uncomplimentary about Starscream's stubbornness. For the rest of the afternoon, Starscream didn’t even look at the table. He didn’t complain either, although his displeasure kept leaking across the bonds. He was too stubborn to admit it out loud. 

Eventually, Thundercracker stood. “Let’s get some energon,” he said. “I think we could all use a break from this room.”

They collected their guard and made their way down the increasingly familiar walk to the rec-room. Being around the Autobots was as stressful as always, but it was a relief to be able to stretch their legs and wings outside the room.

The conversation dipped when they entered, but this time it didn’t go completely silent. Their group didn’t stop either, but as they were walking towards their normal table Skyfire noticed wings. Five pairs of them. The Aerialbots had taken over one of the tables, and they were trying valiantly not to look at them. The young Flyers were sitting in the middle of the room with a Grounder he didn’t recognize. The mech was mostly red and white, and he had two colorful audial fins framing his face. 

Nudging Starscream, he motioned towards their observers. Starscream's wings stiffened, and he quickly glanced away. He snatched his cube from Skyfire's hand and started pushing his way over to their usual table. Skyfire nearly fumbled his own energon cube trying to catch up.

Thundercracker and Skywarp looked over too, and Skywarp gasped when he saw the Aerialbots.

"Aw, look at the widdle Seekerlings," he gushed, face breaking out into a wide grin. "Think they'll let us say hi if we promise to play nice?"

Starscream grumbled something without looking over. Skywarp kept his neck craned backwards to look at the younglings, and even Thundercracker kept sneaking glances over, a small smile on his face. They reached the table, and Starscream sprawled into his regular seat, pulling his chair out almost violently.

Skywarp slid into the seat next to him and poked Starscream's wing. "Hey, I thought you'd be more excited 'bout seeing some younglings!"

Starscream didn't bother replying. He glared down at his cube, completely ignoring his Trinemate. Thundercracker deduced the reason behind his foul mood first.

"What did you do?" he asked, more exasperated than upset.

“Nothing!” Starscream said. “Leave it alone.”

Thundercracker looked thoroughly unconvinced. Before he could press, the stranger at the Aerialbot’s table stood and started walking towards them.

“Slag,” Starscream muttered as he set down his cube. “What does _this_ one want?”

Most of the mech’s face was hidden by a blast mask, but he seemed excited about something. His audial fins were a cheerful yellow by the time he reached their table.

“Hi! You’re Starscream and Skyfire, right? The energon production scientists?”

Starscream’s anger fizzled, giving way to a surprised pleasure. He always had enjoyed hearing other mecha acknowledge his credentials.

Skyfire nodded, and he offered the mech a genuine smile. “Yes, that’s us. Who are you?”

“I’m Wheeljack! I’m one of the inventors here. My specialty is demolitions and chemical reactions. It’s great to meet you!” 

He stuck out his hand in an imitation of the organic species' greeting. Starscream stared down at it in confusion, so Skyfire leaned forward and gave it a soft shake. He recognized Wheeljack’s designation; the mech had a very… unorthodox reputation that involved copious amounts of explosions, both intentional and accidental. His friendliness seemed genuine, though.

“I’ve been really wanting to talk to you guys about this new energon converter we’ve been trying to build. We’ve got it up and running, but it tends to, uh, break down. A lot. Jazz mentioned you two really know your stuff and that you might be able to review our design.”

Starscream’s face twisted, and he was about to reject Wheeljack’s offer when Skyfire spoke up. “I’d love to hear more. What parts are you having the most trouble with?” 

Wheeljack apparently had his own copy of the schematics in his subspace, and he happily pulled them out and spread them across the table. Wheeljack launched into his explanation, and Starscream reluctantly subsided, drawn into the conversation against his will.

All things considered, it was a pleasant conversation. Wheeljack was certainly no expert on energon, but he was a skilled scientist nonetheless. He was also extremely friendly, and his excitement for the project was infectious. Even Starscream seemed to forget his previous irritation, unable to resist science when it was right in front of him.

Eventually, Skyfire looked over to find that Skywarp and Thundercracker were gone. They’d moved a few tables over, to where the Aerialbots were sitting, and seemed to be engaged in a rather intense conversation. Slingshot and Air Raid were vigorously pantomiming something as Skywarp helped, and all seven were smiling. Silverbolt caught him watching, and Skyfire offered him a small smile before turning back to Wheeljack.

They left when the rec room started becoming a bit too crowded, gathering Skywarp, Thundercracker, and their guard on their way out. Wheeljack made them promise to meet up later to continue their conversation and said he’d try to get them lab privileges. Starscream still refused to look at the younglings as they passed, and he hurried them through the door.

 "Did you enjoy your conversation with the Aerialbots?” Skyfire asked.

Skywarp nodded vigorously. “They’re adorable!” he said. “Silverbolt, Slingshot, and Air Raid had some cool stories ‘bout the planet, and Skydive got, like, _really_ excited about the formations and stuff Thundercracker designed. Plus, Fireflight is the most adorable mech ever.”

“Apparently Wheeljack is one of their Caretakers,” Thundercracker added. “How did your discussion with him go? You seemed to be hitting it off pretty well before we left.”

Starscream snorted. “The mech’s an engineer masquerading as a researcher, but he’s nice enough. He’s got some good ideas mixed in with the bad too. Seriously though, I think he based the idea off an outline that was outdated when I was in Iacon, and the wiring is an absolute disaster.”

“Despite its flaws, that structure was generally better suited for high-output solar rays like this. The execution has some shaky sections, but the underlying design is rather well chosen.”

Starscream snorted, unconvinced, and the ensuing debate carried them the rest of the way back to their quarters, at which point Starscream grabbed the folded schematic off the table and pointed at a particularly cluttered compartment of the design.

“See?” Starscream said. “Just look at this mess! Especially if they stick with plastic for the insulator, these wires will start to fray within a half vorn, and then the whole thing could go up in flames!”

Skyfire shifted "What do you think about rewiring this piece?" he asked. "We could run a third of the wires through the gap over here, which would free up some space for better reinforcements."

Starscream took the idea and ran with it, and soon they were shooting ideas back and forth until they had something they both could be satisfied with. The conversation lapsed. In the silence, Skyfire could feel Starscream’s reservations about the project creeping back in.

Skyfire took a moment to regard the schematics. They were certainly adequate, and there were spots of truly inspired cleverness in incorporating the organic environment. They were still horribly inefficient and downright ugly, and Skyfire was sure he could reduce the necessary materials by half and improve the structure to last for vorns if he spent an orn revising it.

“Wheeljack would be very grateful for any suggestions we could offer him,” he said. “I’m sure he and the Aerialbots, along with many other mecha, would benefit from better energon converters as well.”

Starscream remained silent, head bowed over the schematics. “I still don’t like it,” he said.

He didn’t offer any other arguments though, and soon enough they were drawn back into a conversation about the revisions. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. They had cycles of uninterrupted time to cover the schematics with scattered notations and suggestions. It was quite possibly the most relaxing afternoon Skyfire had experienced in vorns.

...


	24. The Energon Converter

The next solar cycle, they returned to the rec room around the same time. Skyfire brought the schematics, which had been completely covered by their scribbled suggestions. Wheeljack was already sitting at an empty table with an energon cube in his hand. Starscream grabbed the schematics and immediately joined him. Skyfire, Skywarp, and Thundercracker stopped by the energon dispenser first to grab a cube. Smiling to himself, Skyfire filled up a second one for Starscream. Knowing him, the Seeker would get so distracted by the conversation that he’d make it all the way back to his quarters before realizing he was still hungry.

Starscream had the schematics spread out and was deep in discussion by the time they reached the table. He didn’t notice when Skyfire set a cube in front of him, though he absentmindedly took a sip. Wheeljack smiled at him, head fins lighting up cheerfully, but Starscream didn’t seem to register his presence until Skyfire brought up a conflicting idea about energy storage.  

Thundercracker and Skywarp sat a few seats over, content to observe the room and avoid the rather energetic debate across the table. After a half cycle, Skyfire stopped paying attention to the rest of the room, so he was surprised by a voice behind him.

“Hey, Wheeljack? Ratchet wants to know when you’ll be free to help with the scanner thingamjig,” Fireflight said.

The Seekerling was standing beside him, fidgeting uncomfortably. Silverbolt and Air Raid were behind him. Skyfire blinked, surprised, and then reached over to stop Starscream from vaulting out of his seat.

Wheeljack lit up and said, “Tell Ratchet I’ll have some time to stop by after third shift! Hey, you’ve met these guys, right? I remember you talking about Starscream before.”

As a group, the three Younglings looked over at Starscream and Skyfire, seeming just as uncomfortable as the Seeker.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Skyfire said, looking at the Younglings and keeping a firm hand on Starscream’s shoulder. “How are you?”

Fireflight looked faintly panicked and stammered something unintelligible before turning back to Wheeljack

Across the bond, Starscream sent sharp, unhappy pulses at him, which Skyfire ignored. Starscream had grown close to the Aerialbots before going after his Trinemates, and Skyfire knew he regretted damaging that relationship. Knowing Starscream’s aversion to public displays of emotion, he’d avoid the Younglings for vorns if nobody intervened.

Wheeljack seemed to have the same idea. He gestured towards the empty seats and said, “You should join us! You had your training today, so you must be hungry.”

Silverbolt shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just-”

“Nonsense! You three sit down; I’ll grab you some cubes!”

Head fins flashing cheerfully, Wheeljack ushered the three Younglings into the empty seats and pranced away. Thundercracker and Skywarp shared a look, and they stood too.

“We’ll leave you alone,” Thundercracker said. “Good luck.”

They relocated to a nearby table. Skyfire considered joining them, but Starscream’s glare promised revenge if he left them completely alone with the Younglings. For several uncomfortable moments, nobody spoke. Skyfire had stopped Starscream from running away, but he couldn’t stop the Seeker from staring mulishly into his energon cube instead of actually saying anything.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Silverbolt said after an awkward silence.

Beside him, Air Raid snorted. “Of course we do,” he said, glaring at Starscream. “You _left_ us. We were flying together, and you ran away.”

Starscream tensed, and Skyfire could feel his guilt over the bond. He didn’t let any of it leak into his expression. “It was the only choice I had! They weren’t gonna let me outside without another flyer and it’s slag, but it was the best I could do.”

Air Raid snorted. “That doesn’t make it alright! I thought we could trust you, and you used us.”

Air Raid was leaning forward, angry and gathering steam, until Fireflight put a hand on his shoulder. The other Seekerling pulled him back, and the combined stares from him and Silverbolt helped calm him down. Fireflight turned that stare towards Starscream. It was pretty effective.

“Your Trinemates are like your brothers, right?” Fireflight asked.

Starscream hesitated, then he nodded. “I guess. A gestalt link is probably the closest thing to a Trinebond anyway.”

“They were in trouble?”

Starscream leaned further into Skyfire’s side. Skyfire could feel how much the Seeker wanted to shut the conversation down and leave. Probably throw a few insults in there too, to make sure they didn’t bring up the topic again. Skyfire was proud of how Starscream ignored the urge and nodded instead.

“They thought I was dead when I was in the ice. Then I woke up. I couldn’t explain anything about what happened. If I hadn’t found them, then they’d have done something stupid and gotten hurt.”

 Fireflight nodded. He lowered his voice and leaned in close, as if imparting a secret. “I’d do a lot for my brothers if something was wrong with them. I’m really, really glad I haven’t had to choose or anything yet.”

Starscream seemed stunned as Fireflight leaned away again and smiled at him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, but it really was my only chance. I had to take it,” Starscream said. He hesitated. “Did… you get in trouble? For what happened?”

Fireflight’s smile brightened. “No. I mean, Jazz got really upset and we had to answer a lot of questions, but we didn’t get punished or anything. There were a couple jerks saying mean things, but I think most mecha just felt sorry for us.”

Starscream winced. Skyfire nudged him, and, awkwardly, he continued. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth. I don’t regret how it turned out, but… yeah.”

Starscream kept his optics averted, embarrassed. He jumped when Fireflight reached over to touch his hand.

“We miss you. All of us,” Fireflight said.

Air Raid hmphed, and Silverbolt elbowed him in the side and gave him a Look. Air Raid groaned. “Fine, whatever. But if you do it again I’ll kick your aft.”

Starscream laughed. “Sure. Not that it matters. I’m not planning on leaving again.”

Skyfire was relieved as the table settled down into something more comfortable. He wouldn’t quite call it good yet, but it was less likely to send bystanders running in the opposite direction. Soon enough, Wheeljack reemerged from the Autobots, as if he’d been watching them and waiting for the right time to return. He had three full energon cubes balanced in his hands, which he laid out in front of the Younglings.

“You seem to be getting along better. That’s great! I was just about to tell these two about Hoist and Grapple’s plans.”

“The builders?” Skyfire asked.

Skyfire vaguely remembered them. They weren’t well known among the Decepticons, but Skyfire had heard their names mentioned a few times. Mostly by the Constructicons when they were complaining about something.

“Yeah, they’re really excited about the converter. Something about doing a project that’s not a weapon. Plus they’re worried about Decepticon sabotage, so they wanna get started as quickly as possible. The inner mechanisms still need a lot of tweaking, but I’m hoping we can send them some basic specs so they can start on the supports and stuff.”

Starscream leaned forward immediately, eager for the change in subject. Unsurprisingly, the Aerialbots weren’t nearly as excited about a project, and they soon excused themselves to join Thundercracker and Skywarp at their table. The schematics took up the others’ attention.

“We’ll need to iron out some of the placements, but I think it’s doable,” Skyfire said. “At this point, it’s mostly the wiring and individual components that still need tweaked.”

Starscream glared at the schematic. “I don’t like having so many restrictions before we even finalize the design,” he grumbled. “We’d be done soon enough anyway. What does the extra orn even matter?”

“Are you worried you can’t handle it? We’ve worked under more stringent expectations at the Academy.”

As expected, the comment got Starscream all determined to exceed the Autobot’s expectations. The next few cycles were extremely productive, and Wheeljack left with the promise that construction would begin the next morning.

-/-

Later that orn, Thundercracker had a message waiting for him when they returned to their quarters. Skywarp snuck glances over Thundercracker’s shoulder as he opened it, and surprise pulsed through the bond at whatever they read.

“Huh,” Skywarp said. He pulled the datapad from Thundercracker’s fingers for a closer look.

“What is it?”

“Prowl requested a meeting with TC. ‘pparently he wants to go over some strategy stuff for the next battle. The letter’s real polite too.”

Skyfire’s gaze drifted to the datapad in Skywarp’s hands. “Huh,” he echoed. “Just Thundercracker?”

“I mean, it’s addressed to TC, but it says we can go too. If we wanna.”

Thundercracker took the datapad back and started typing. “Without us, Thrust is probably the new Air Commander, and he’s always struggled with integrating complex strategies. I’m sure I could help the Autobots take advantage of it.”

Skyfire nodded. “When would we start?”

Thundercracker’s fingers hesitated on the datapad. “Having all four of us there might be overkill. I don’t want to seem aggressive.” He paused for a moment, then nodded decisively. “Skywarp, you come with me; you’re familiar with the other flyers and formations. Starscream and Skyfire, you should keep focusing on your work with Wheeljack. It would be good to build up more goodwill.”

Starscream grumbled a bit at being left out, but it was a lackluster complaint. He’d never been particularly enthusiastic about military strategy, and he was certainly enjoying ripping apart and improving the Autobots’ project.

“Speaking of that, how’s the converter coming along?” Thundercracker asked.

“It’s going well,” Skyfire said. “I think we’ve got the major problems worked out, and Wheeljack’s reported good progress with the construction. If everything goes well, then we could be ready for testing within an orn.”

“That’s pretty fast.”

Skyfire shrugged. “Hoist and Grapple are good at what they do. We’ve been working hard to keep up.”

Besides, solar converters were one of the more basic ways of converting energon. He and Starscream had designed or altered hundreds over the vorns at Cybertron and the different planets they’d visited. The organic planet made it somewhat more complicated, though it was nothing they couldn’t handle.

Skyfire was looking forward to finishing the project.

-/-

Gradually, despite the war and the history that hung over them like a constant fog, Skyfire found himself relaxing. He had Starscream here and his Trinemates, all of them safe and healthy. The Autobots certainly didn’t trust them, but they weren’t aggressive. With all the time Skyfire and Starscream were spending with Wheeljack, most had stopped reacting to their presence altogether.

By unspoken agreement, they didn’t go anywhere on their own. Only in pairs. Skyfire didn’t much like the four of them being separated at all, but he was slowly getting used to it. Thundercracker and Skywarp had their meetings, and Skyfire and Starscream had their discussions with Wheeljack. They still had their guards, of course, though the unfamiliar Autobots often faded into the background.

Skyfire still felt mildly uncomfortable as he and Starscream walked to the rec room without the other two Seekers beside them.

For once, Wheeljack wasn’t waiting for them. Mildly concerned, they grabbed their cubes and sat down at their normal table. They were halfway done when Wheeljack came running into the room.

“Sorry I’m late!” Wheeljack said as he slid into the seat. “I was talking to Hoist and Grapple, and it ran pretty long.”

“Is everything alright?”

Wheeljack shrugged. “Eh. Nobody’s dead and the ‘Cons are being quiet, so things are going pretty well. Hoist and Grapple have run into some problems though. They’ve got the first panels set up, but the preliminary testing ran into some problems. The output’s lower than anticipated.”

Starscream straightened. “Are you sure they did the test right?”

Skyfire winced, but Wheeljack seemed more amused than annoyed at the implied insult. “Yes. They tried several methods, and I trust their judgement. We’ve put everything else on hold until all that gets sorted out.”

“Are any of the materials flawed? Is the problem with the output or input? And what about-” Starscream rattled off a half dozen more ideas. He was tapping his claws on the table and staring into space, more focused on the design than Wheeljack.

Wheeljack shrugged. “I haven’t gotten the chance to look it over yet, and the others are just starting on the testing. We were hoping you two had some ideas ‘bout what to check.”

Starscream most certainly did. He had quite a few of them, most of which were unfeasible due to their limited resources and equipment. Eventually, Starscream laid his head on the table and groaned.

“How are we supposed to figure out what went wrong when Skyfire and I aren’t even allowed to see the slagging thing? The problem isn’t with the schematics, that’s for sure.”

Wheeljack patted Starscream on the back, which the Seeker grudgingly allowed. “I’ll get you copies of whatever tests we run. You’re right though; it’ll be hard to figure out from a distance.” He paused, mulling something over, before continuing. “I can try talking to Jazz, if you want. The construction site is within our territory. Hopefully Jazz can do something ‘bout letting you see the project you’ve been working on.”

 “Do you really think he’d allow it?” Skyfire asked, glancing over at Starscream. “The last time one of us left the Ark didn’t go so well.”

“I can ask, at least. Jazz is a pretty reasonable mech!”

Skyfire nodded along, unconvinced but unwilling to argue. After dedicating a few orns to its design, he’d love the chance to see it in person and, hopefully, figure out what was going wrong. He wouldn’t get his hopes up about his chances to leave the Ark.

-/-

With construction stalling, they started seeing Wheeljack less. Sometimes he was there with updates or to chat, but more often he was on-site with the builders or working on another project. Visiting the rec-room without a specific purpose was significantly more awkward, but they stayed regardless. They’d worked hard enough to get the Autobots comfortable with their presence; they weren’t about to give that up.

When they walked into a room, Skyfire always scanned the tables to see what Autobots were there. Some mecha he wanted to avoid altogether, like the time Jazz had been giving some performance so they’d turned around and walked right back out. Other mecha, like the Aerialbots, were happy to split a table and socialize for a bit.

Today, the room was on the quieter side. The only face he recognized was Bluestreak, who was sitting in a corner table by himself. For once, the Twins weren’t beside him.

Thundercracker hesitated, and he handed his cube to Skywarp. He was looking at Bluestreak, alone at his table. “You three grab the table, and I’ll join you in a few kliks. There’s something I need to do.”

Skyfire looked at Bluestreak, then back to Thundercracker. “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked.

Skyfire hadn’t forgotten how tense—almost frightened—the Praxian had been during his first interactions with Thundercracker and Skywarp. He’d calmed down since then, but theirs was still an uneasy relationship. And Bluestreak had always had the Twins guarding his back before.

Thundercracker nodded. “I won’t stay long, but I have some things that need to be said.”

Skyfire could feel echoes of Thundercracker’s emotions across the bond. Something old and determined and mournful. His Trinemates felt it too, and they leaned closer to him.

“We weren’t even there! When Praxus fell, we were at some dinky little outpost across the Rust Sea. There’s nothing for you to feel guilty about,” Skywarp said.

Gently, Thundercracker pushed him back. “If we’d been stationed closer, we would’ve been part of the attack, just like all the other Seekers. That means something.”

Skywarp couldn’t find the words to keep arguing. This was important to Thundercracker. Skyfire just hoped he didn’t make anything worse.

“It won’t take long,” Thundercracker said, and he turned towards Bluestreak.

Skyfire watched him go, even as they found their way towards their normal table. He saw how Bluestreak froze when he saw Thundercracker walking towards him, and how he recovered afterwards, pretending to be unaffected.

They all tried to act normal as they drank their energon, but none of them could focus enough to hold a conversation. They all kept sneaking glances towards the Praxian, trying to judge how the discussion was going.

“Well, Bluestreak hasn’t run off or tried to shoot TC. That’s a good sign,” Skywarp said.

“He doesn’t look happy about it either,” Skyfire said. Bluestreak looked... unsteady. Upset, even. Not that Skyfire had expected anything less, considering what they were discussing.

Whatever conversation they were having, it seemed to be coming to a close. Thundercracker reached out, brushing a hand across Bluestreak’s shoulder. Then he bowed his head, stood, and walked away. Moments later, Bluestreak stood up and practically fled the rec room. Thundercracker seemed exhausted when he reached their table and took his cube back from Skywarp.

“How’d it go?” Starscream asked.

Thundercracker stared down at his cube. “It went well enough. I said what I needed to say.”

They let the subject drop. They finished their meals in silence, and as they were finishing a mech came up to them with a datapad, which he handed to Thundercracker. Frowning, Thundercracker activated it.

“Well? What is it?” Skywarp asked as Thundercracker kept reading.

“Prowl. He wants another meeting. All four of us this time.”

Skywarp swiped the datapad from Thundercracker’s hand. “Huh,” he said. “Well, we shouldn’t keep the guy waiting.”

-/-

Skyfire didn’t know much about Prowl. He knew the mech was SIC and Head Tactician of the entire army, and that he’d held the position for most of the war. He knew the mech was frighteningly competent, and that he had a rather uncharitable reputation for being strict and emotionless. Skyfire had been perfectly happy without having to see the mech. He’d also had been happier if Jazz hadn’t been in the room with them.

“Wheeljack submitted a request to have the two of you visit a construction site,” Prowl said once they were seated.

Skyfire nodded and tried to ignore Jazz’s silent presence. “So far, they haven’t had much luck finding the problem with the converter. We believe it’s an environmental factor, and Wheeljack thought seeing it in person could help us figure it out,” he said.

The rumors didn’t do Prowl’s stoicism justice. Skyfire didn’t think he’d so much as twitched since they’d entered, and he had no idea what the Tactician was thinking. He repressed the urge to keep babbling to fill the silence. It was a relief when Prowl started talking.

“Once the converter is operational, it will ease some of our energy strain. Wheeljack has made some compelling arguments in your favor, as has Jazz.”

“You’re letting them go?” Skywarp blurted out.

 “Not ‘xactly,” Jazz said, pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning against. “Starscream over there’s still too much’ve a flight risk, considerin’ what happened last time. He’s gonna be sticking inside the ship’s walls fer a while yet. Skyfire though? Well, Prowler over here ran the numbers, an’ he says its mighty unlikely fer the mech ta go runnin’ off into the sunset. ‘Specially with the rest of ya still hangin’ ‘round this place.”

“You want me to go alone?” Skyfire repeated. He glanced towards the Seekers, who looked as uneasy about the idea as Skyfire felt.

Prowl nodded. “I’m willing to authorize your presence, and only yours, in the expedition tomorrow. It’s your decision whether you accept the offer. Do you have any questions?”

Prowl looked at them, datapad in hand, as if he was hoping the answer was no so he could get back to his real work. Of course, they weren’t willing to fold quite so easily.

“Will it be safe?” Thundercracker asked.

“We will have guards joining the scientists, and the likelihood of a Decepticon attack is low. The risks should be minimal.”

Starscream snorted. “All that slag you put us through—put _Thundercracker_ through—and that’s the best you can do? A ‘minimal’ risk?”

“Of course. We are at war; it would be irrational to believe that anyone’s safety is entirely guaranteed.”

Skyfire could feel Starscream displeasure at _that_ statement, so he spoke first. “I would like some time to consider our options,” he said.

“As you wish. The expedition will leave at the start of first shift tomorrow morning. Inform me if you choose to join them.”

Prowl dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and they left.

-/-

They waited until returning to their quarters to talk.  As soon as the door slid closed behind them, Starscream turned to Skyfire.

“You should do it,” Starscream said. “It’s better for one of us to go than nobody.”

Everybody looked at Starscream in surprise. He rolled his optics. “What? Just ‘cause I can’t go, you think I want to ruin it for all of us? Skyfire hasn’t even gone flying for orns. Besides, Prowl might be an aft, but he seems passably competent.”

Then everyone was looking at him. Skyfire waffled and eventually admitted that it would be nice to get out of the Ark for a bit.

Thundercracker sighed. “I don’t like the idea of sending you off on your own. It’s your choice though; if you think it’s worth it, then go.”

“Give me some time to consider it, and I’ll let you know tomorrow,” Skyfire said. Truthfully, he already knew what his answer would be, and he was pretty sure the Seekers did too. He wanted to see what he’d helped design and to stretch his wings for the first time in far too long.

Thundercracker nodded and clapped Skyfire on the shoulder as he walked past him. “Just be careful, alright? It makes me nervous to have you so far away.”

Skyfire nodded, and he followed Thundercracker to the berth to relax. It had been a long day.

-/-

The Autobots moved quickly. Once Skyfire gave his acceptance, he received confirmation almost immediately. He also received a flight plan, a list of the mecha going with them, and an account of the tools and materials they had available for any tests. Starscream went through the lists with him, and together they discussed what he could do after arriving. Starscream was frustrated and trying to micromanage everything, but Skyfire didn’t let it bother him. Starscream was just worried, and he hated being left out. Besides, Skyfire would be in the air soon, and that promise could overcome any minor annoyance.

The Seekers came with him to the front of the Ark. They weren’t allowed outside, but they said their goodbyes within sight of the main entrance.

“Be careful,” Thundercracker said. “I don’t trust the Autobots to watch your back.”

Not as well as they could, Thundercracker didn’t say, but Skyfire heard it all the same. “I will,” Skyfire promised. He’s rather have the Seekers there too, but he trusted the Autobots to keep their word.

“Don’t forget to take vids!” Starscream said. “I want as much information about the locational conditions as possible.”

Skyfire smiled and agreed, and soon enough Wheeljack was there, along with Hoist, Grapple, and a few guards. It was time.

He left the Seekers inside and walked into the open air. Stepping into the sunlight again was breathtaking. No walls. No closed rooms or low ceilings. Just the open sky and ground stretching as far as he could see. Skyfire offlined his optics and stretched his wings a moment to feel the sun and breeze on his plating. Then he activated his thrusters and took to the air.

He didn’t bother transforming. Even with the Grounders in alt-mode, Skyfire could easily keep up with just his thrusters. Skyfire reveled in the easy, meandering flight and the freedom of being in the air again.  It had been far too long since he'd last enjoyed the skies. His thrusters itched to fly faster and higher, to test their limits, but Skyfire held off in deference to the Grounders below.

He kept pace with the dust trails marking the Grounder’s passage, and soon enough the squat structure of the energon converter came into view. Skyfire landed softly in front of it.

The converter was easily twice as tall as Skyfire and wide enough to hide a mech behind. The outer plating was smooth to the touch, though an entire stretch of the outer coverings had yet to be installed. The inner machinery was protected by clear plastic tarps. Most of the inside and several solar panels were missing, but he could see several sections that had already been installed.

“It’s going to be beautiful when it’s finished,” Wheeljack said, looking at the half-built structure with obvious pride.

Skyfire was inclined to agree. Compared to many of the projects Skyfire had made in Iacon, it was almost primitive in its materials and simplicity. Yet, it had been made with obvious care and determination, in a place that made designing anything a struggle, and that alone made it beautiful.

“Can you show me what’s been having trouble?” Skyfire asked.

Wheeljack enthusiastically agreed, and together they walked closer.

Skyfire had been slightly nervous about working with unfamiliar Autobots, especially without a Seeker at his back, but he was pleasantly surprised to find them professional and competent. He stuck close to Wheeljack regardless

Soon enough, the sun began its slow descent and the sunlight began to dim. As the Autobots called for the end of the work day, Skyfire stared down at the unfinished section he'd been working on in displeasure.

Wheeljack, who'd been working nearby, caught his conflicted look. "Don't worry, we can return next solar cycle," he said, patting Skyfire’s shoulder with his free hand. "Optimus has standing orders to return to the Ark after nightfall. You know, just in case."

Then, reluctantly, they packed up and began the slow trip back to the Ark.

-/-

Later in the night cycle, Skyfire sprawled across their berth with Starscream beside him.

“It’s definitely something to do with the planetary conditions. The cables were already showing some damage when they should’ve lasted at least a half-vorn.”

Starscream hummed, flicking through the image captures Skyfire had brought back with him. “I know the materials we’re using are inferior, but there’s no way they’re that bad. Something has to be getting in. Did you notice anything while you were there?”

“Just dirt and foliage. It was rather sparse.”

“Well, something’s getting inside. Maybe the surroundings are harsher than we expected, or some organic is mucking about in there. Increasing the protective coverings could help.”

Skyfire nodded and made a few new marks on the schematics. “We might want to design something to keep the debris off the panels too; there’s already dirt collecting on top of them, and that can’t be good for the output.”

Starscream added some notes of his own. He stopped writing mid-word, and his head snapped up to stare intently towards the door.

 “Starscream? What’s wrong?” Skyfire asked.

“It’s Skywarp and Thundercracker. They narrowed the bond.”

Skyfire straightened, immediately worried. “Are they alright?”

Starscream hesitated a few moments before answering. “I think so. They aren’t hurt, but something has them nervous. Those slaggers better get back here quick.”

Starscream started pacing, sending worried glances at the door every few steps. “They’re only at a meeting, right? Nothing unusual?” he said.

Skyfire nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be fine,” he said, though he shared Starscream’s worry. He didn’t relax until the door to their quarters opened and Skywarp and Thundercracker came through.

“What happened?” Starscream demanded, walking over to inspect their frames for damage. Skywarp waved him off and collapsed onto the berth instead.

Thundercracker pulled up his own chair. “The Twins,” he said. “They weren’t happy about the conversation I had with Bluestreak earlier this orn.”

Skyfire took a deep breath to control his initial reaction, which was panic at the thought of the Terror Twins out for revenge. “Should we be worried?” he asked, keeping his voice carefully level.

Thundercracker shook his head. “I don’t think so. Sideswipe said we’d get a free pass this time, but if we corned Bluestreak again they’d send us to the med-bay.”

Skyfire inclined his head. “That’s fair,” he said.

Starscream grumbled and glared at them all, muttering something about people making stupid choices and getting his own revenge if anything happened. He allowed himself to be placated when his Trinemates moved closer, and soon enough they returned to their notes. Skywarp and Thundercracker didn’t have much to add, though Skywarp certainly had strong opinions about various organic muck that kept getting stuck in his engines.

-/-

The second day went as smoothly as the first. They made some repairs, figured out some ideas for reinforcing the structure, and the Grounders started building again.  It wasn't until their third visit that everything went wrong.

Ratchet had stolen Wheeljack for something in the med-bay, which left Skyfire with Hoist, Grapple, and a couple guards. Halfway through the day, Hoist stopped working and tilted his head at some incoming transmission. The other Autobots did the same.

"Oh dear. Well, that's unfortunate," Hoist said.

Skyfire set down the welder he'd been using and stood up. "What happened?" he asked.

"Red Alert has detected Decepticon activity nearby."

Hoist reached into his subspace and removed an impressively large gun, almost as big as his arm.

“The Prime has dispatched backup. They should arrive shortly," he continued. His voice was still mild, as if he were discussing an unpleasant turn in the weather instead of an impending attack.

"Before or after the Decepticons do?" Skyfire asked.

With a loud click, Hoist locked the last part of his gun in place and started testing the balance. "After, most likely. Quite unfortunate."

Once Hoist adjusted his gun to his liking, he reached back into his subspace and pulled out a standard blaster, which he tossed to Skyfire.

"Best you have something to defend yourself with," he said with a rueful smile.

Skyfire thanked him absentmindedly as he investigated the weapon, getting a feel for its weight. He doubted it would be able to punch through armor, but it would do well against thinner plating like joints. Skyfire focused on breathing and trying to remain calm. The raiding party was probably small and here for the converter. Not to hunt down a traitor, especially one as unimportant as Skyfire. He hoped.

He could feel Starscream prodding him across the bond, concerned. Skyfire tried to send reassurance back, but he wasn’t very successful. Internally apologizing, Skyfire narrowed the bond instead.

Hoist tapped his shoulder. "You have clearance to fly back to the Ark," he said. "I suggest you hurry."

Skyfire transformed immediately and took to the air. He went as fast as his engines could move, but Shuttles weren't built for speed.

Sunlight glinted below him as something metal moved through the valleys splitting the ground. He fervently hoped it was the Autobot backup Hoist had mentioned, but he doubted he would be so lucky.

He wasn't even surprised by the first volley of energy bolts that rose to meet him. The second volley came from above instead of below, singing his armor. He had to swerve sharply left to avoid a direct hit. Looking back, Skyfire found three pursuers on his tail. Skyfire recognized them immediately: the Coneheads, the second ranked Trine. The Command Trine now, he supposed.

For the first time, Skyfire cursed the Autobots for deactivating his weapons. He couldn't fight back! All he could do was dodge the energy bolts and attempt to shake the two Seekers off his tail.

Blaster fire scorched against his plating in small shocks of pain whenever he was too slow to dodge. His armor, thick even for a Shuttle, protected him from worse injury, but it was only a matter of time before they hit something sensitive. Shuttles weren't built for agility, and he wasn't fast enough to outrun Seekers. Skyfire’s entire frame ached, but he grit his teeth and kept going.

The sound of more flight engines split the air, growing closer. Across the bond, narrow as it was, Skyfire could feel a fierce determination. Realization struck as the engines grew closer, and Skyfire looked over, hoping he was wrong.

Three familiar frames sped towards him: Skywarp, Thundercracker, and Starscream. Behind them, in the distance, were the Autobot grounders. Blowing the bond wide open, Skyfire threw his denial and horror at Starscream. Starscream had never been in an airfight before! He didn’t even have integrated weaponry! What was he doing? Starscream responded with determination, and he kept coming.

Distracted, Skyfire was slow to dodge, and Ramjet’s next volley singed the edge of his wing. He lurched and nearly lost control of his flight before stabilizing. He twisted out of their way again, but the next shot didn’t come from the Seekers. It came from the ground and scorched its way up Skyfire’s thruster. Skyfire cried out. Blinded by pain and missing a thruster, he quickly lost control of the flight.

Skyfire barely managed to transform back to root mode before hitting the ground hard. Stunned, several moments passed before Skyfire could think again, let alone stand up. He forced himself to stand regardless, though he could barely put weight on his damaged leg. Diagnostics quickly told him what he already suspected: he wouldn't be able to fly again without repairs.

 He fumbled for his 'com, thoughts turning to the Seekers, but the link fizzled away into nothing. He recognized the distinct feel of a jammed channel and didn't try again.

Starscream was pulsing worry over the bond. Skyfire did his best to block his own pain, instead sending the Seeker a flare of reassurance. Looking up, Skyfire could see that Starscream and his trine had reached the Coneheads. All six Seekers were circling each other in the sky, firing back and forth. It seemed the Autobots had reactivated Skywarp and Thundercracker’s weapons. Even without weapons, Starscream was out-flying everyone else in the sky.

Skyfire didn’t let himself watch for long. Grounded, he was more vulnerable than he’d been in the skies. He needed to reach the Autobots. Skyfire limped his way towards the inadequate shelter of organic flora—trees—and started walking. The organic brush was taller than him and the leaves helped shield his frame, but he was large big to move with any kind of stealth. He glanced up periodically, searching for the Seekers in the sky. Their flight kept drifting further away, and Starscream’s spark stayed strong and pain-free.

It was harder to tell where the Grounders were fighting. They seemed to be everywhere: small pockets of fighters barreled across the ground while other mecha took potshots at each other. Skyfire wasn’t sure which side was which in the chaos, and he backed away from the worst of the fighting. He held Hoist’s undersized blaster in one hand, as if the meager protection would do anything against a soldier.

He kept moving forward because it was better than standing still. He reached the edge of the small grove of trees, where the ground returned to dull, flat browns. He couldn’t see any fighters on this side, Autobot or Decepticon. Skyfire hesitated, debating whether to keep heading forward or turn back.

Something heavy landed behind him. The sound was soon accompanied by the loud, distinct whirr of a charging weapon, one that Skyfire recognized.

Offlining his optics, Skyfire just stood there for a long moment. His chest felt hollow, his spark sluggish. He was too terrified even to panic. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, ignoring the way it shook. Then he turned around.

He expected to see the large silver frame that stood there, bristling with weaponry. His fusion cannon glowed with charge on his arm, strong enough to easily punch through his armor and deactivate him where he stood.

Megatron.

The warlord grinned at him, a fierce, feral thing that made Skyfire's spark quake in fear.

"Skyfire," he purred. "I've been looking for you, traitor."

Terrified, unarmed, and alone, Skyfire said nothing.

~.*.~

AN: So, I can confirm the rumors about medical school are all true. It’s hella busy. Also, I was having a lot of trouble with the pacing here. But the next chapter is almost finished too, so that should be up soon.


	25. Consequences

 They were alone.

The sounds of battle were far away, audible only when the wind blew its echoes towards them. It was a quiet sound, almost lost behind the dull roar that filled Skyfire’s audios as panic lapped at his spark. Starscream hammered at the bond, demanding answers, but Skyfire was lost to the fear, unable to move or respond.

A particularly strong push, and Skyfire jolted back to reality. Starscream was somewhere in the sky above them. He was on the same battlefield as Megatron, far closer than Skyfire ever wanted them to be. Skyfire closed the bond entirely and prayed that Starscream wouldn’t be able to find him.

Skyfire eyed the tentative shelter of a nearby plateau, wondering whether he'd be able to make it. Megatron caught him looking.

"Try to run, and I'll kill you where you stand," he said.

One glance at Megatron's fusion cannon, fully charged and crackling with energy, was enough proof that he was telling the truth.

"And if I stay?" Skyfire asked. He almost didn't recognize his voice, hoarse as it was from fear.

"Then you'll deactivate fighting instead of running like a coward.”

Skyfire shuddered, but he stayed where he was. Fighting would at least buy him time, hopefully enough for help to arrive. Surely someone had noticed Megatron leaving the battlefield. The Autobots couldn’t be far away. With shaking hands, Skyfire held his blaster unsteadily in front of him.

Megaron took out his energon sword. It gleamed wickedly in the sunlight. Skyfire had only seen the sword once before, back when Megatron had still been a Gladiator. It was a weapon crafted for slow, showy fights. Performances, not war.

Megatron adjusted his grip and charged, and Skyfire didn't have the time to think about anything besides defending himself. Skyfire aimed for Megatron's face, for the delicate optical crystals and the sensitive plating there. Megatron dodged his first shot. The second scoured his cheek, leaving a trail of heat-warped metal behind. He didn't have time for a third before Megatron was within range.

Skyfire stumbled backwards to avoid the first slice of Megatron’s sword. The tip of the blade passed dangerously close to his face, filling Skyfire's vision with sharp metal. The next swing was lower, and it caught Skyfire's upflung arm, leaving a long, thin trail of energon in its wake. The cut stung in the open air, and the sword came around once more.

Skyfire tried to aim his blaster again, but a blow to his hand knocked the weapon out of his grip. Then Megatron was close, far too close, as Megatron followed his strike past Skyfire's outstretched arm. Before Skyfire could recover, Megatron brought his sword back around and slid the tip neatly into Skyfire's knee.

The blade slid easily through the thin plating, cutting through metal and circuitry alike. It scraped against a strut as Megatron pulled it back out, and Skyfire found his voice again. A wordless cry of pain left him as his leg gave out entirely and he collapsed to the ground, clutching at the limb. Fluid spurted from the broken lines, trickling over his hands and puddling beneath the plating.

Dirt crunched underfoot as Megatron came closer. One thick foot entered Skyfire's field of vision, and Skyfire glanced up to find Megatron staring disdainfully down.

"Stand," he said. "I'm not done with you yet."

Skyfire's hands balled against the ground as he glared upwards. In that moment, he could almost forget his pain and terror. Humiliation gave rise to fury, which burned everything else away. Fury at himself for being too weak. At the Autobots for being too slow and the Decepticons for distracting them. Most of all, he was furious at Megatron for forcing him into this poor charade of a fight.

It was that anger that gave him the strength to stand. His leg protested and threatened to collapse under him, but Skyfire locked it in place. Displaced gears ground loudly against each other, and more fluid seeped down his plating.

But he made it.

He stood.

This time, he didn't wait for Megatron to attack. He charged the Warlord instead. Megatron seemed amused as he raised his sword, expecting Skyfire to dodge. He didn't. Instead, as the sword arced towards him, Skyfire raised his forearm to block as he continued towards the Warlord.

Skyfire didn't have a weapon, but he did have interstellar-grade armor. The blade bit deeply into his arm, but his armor held. He didn't lose the limb. The pain was immediate and intense, but it bought him the opening he needed.

He doubted anything would feel as satisfying as when his fist sank into Megatron's face.

Skyfire put the full weight of his frame behind the blow, just as Thundercracker had taught him, and Megatron's head snapped back. Skyfire could feel his faceplate denting under his fist and, Skyfire's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. He tried to follow it up, to press the advantage, but Megatron hadn't survived the Gladiator Pits for nothing. Surprise had allowed Skyfire the first blow; it didn’t give him a second.

Megatron roared in anger. The sword was lodged in Skyfire's armor, and the Warlord released the hilt to lunge forward. His fist caught Skyfire in the stomach with enough force that he doubled over, and Megatron followed up with a blow to his head that sent his gyros reeling. His optics must have blacked out, because the next thing Skyfire knew he was back on the ground, looking down at the mottled brown dirt.

For several kliks, Skyfire couldn't move as his sensors recalibrated. He barely made it to his hands and knees before something heavy plowed into his side, sending him sprawling onto his back. A foot thudded onto his chest, pinning him in place, and Megatron's frame filled Skyfire's vision. Skyfire lurched upwards in a desperate attempt to free himself. He froze as cold metal touch his neck.

"Pitiful," Megatron spat. "All this trouble over someone so weak."

Skyfire said nothing. Even if he'd wanted, he doubted he could speak without cutting his throat against the blade.

"A scientist. A medic. Not even a real fighter, and yet you’re the reason my Command Trine betrayed me," Megatron said. The blade dropped down another inch, cutting into plating, before Megatron stopped. "You're not worthy of a clean death”.

An endless pause and, instead of pressing down, the blade against Skyfire's throat lifted.

"I've heard that medics value their hands more than anything," Megatron continued almost conversationally, as if he hadn't just been moments away from murder. "All those specialized sensors and equipment, tucked away in such a small, vulnerable place."

The tip of the sword trailed down Skyfire's shoulder to hover over the wrist of his damaged arm. Skyfire, still pinned beneath Megatron’s weight, could only track the blade with his optics. Megatron brushed the blade against the palm of the hand, which twitched feebly in response. The limb wasn’t working quite right anymore, not after the damage it had taken earlier.

"Pity I don't have the time to do this properly," Megatron mused, almost to himself, "but it'll do."

Skyfire had a moment of perfect clarity of what Megatron was planning. He jerked upwards against Megatron's weight, a frantic denial on his lips, and his free hand lunged towards the weapon. He was too slow.

Megatron brought the sword down, severing Skyfire's wrist in one clean strike.  


-/-

Skyfire knew pain. He'd been stabbed and burnt, bitten and blown up over the course of the war. He'd been connected to mecha in unimaginable agony and watched their spark guttered out

It had been nothing like this.

His hands held more sensors than the rest of his frame, save his wings, combined. The shockwave of agony paralyzed his entire frame. He tried to scream, but his vocalizer glitched. All that emerged was a static ridden whimper.

He jerked away from the sword. His arm came easily. His hand stayed where it had fallen, on the other side of the blade. Skyfire couldn't tear his optics away from it. The tips of the fingers were already starting to gray. He shuddered and offlined his optics, but it didn't matter. The image of the dead grey metal spreading down his hand remained. Megatron's weight on his chest stopped him from curling around what remained of his arm, but he tried anyway. He tucked his bleeding wrist against his side, and his remaining hand cradled the limb as if that would help with the pain. It didn't.

Slowly, Skyfire realized the panic wasn’t entirely his. He could feel Starscream again; the bond had reopened. Skyfire didn’t have the strength to close it again. He couldn’t even separate what emotions where coming from him and what were the Seeker’s.

Megatron watched him struggle, drinking in every soft whimper of pain and gasping breath. With the tip of his sword, he pried Skyfire’s remaining arm away from his torso.

Skyfire's spark ran cold, then exploded in terror.

Not again. Please, not again.

He struggled as best he could, but it was only a matter of time before Megatron had the limb spread out and pinned to the ground. This time, Megatron placed the tip of his sword above the knuckle of one finger instead of the entire wrist.

"How many pieces will I have to remove before you break?" Megatron said. "I want to hear you beg."

Determined as Skyfire was, he didn't think Megatron would have to wait long. Already it took effort to stop the desperate words from pouring off his tongue. Begging would only spur Megatron on. Of course, that was hard to remember as the sword grew closer.

Megatron shifted his grip on the handle, preparing to strike, and Skyfire offlined his optics, unable to look. The blade started to slide in, breaching the first layer of plating, when Skyfire heard a very familiar sound above the static filling his audios: the loud crack of a sonic boom, followed by a very familiar warcry. Then Megatron's weight on his chest disappeared, the blade jerked free and clattered to the ground, and Skyfire onlined his optics.

Megatron had been knocked to the side by several tons of raging Seeker.

Thundercracker.

Thank Primus.

He latched onto the plating of Megatron's back and was brandishing an energon dagger in one hand. Skyfire didn't question where he'd gotten it. He was too grateful that Thundercracker was there, armed and furious.

Twisting, Thundercracker brought his arm down to sink the small blade into the crook of Megatron's neck. The Warlord roared with pain and, jerking, finally managed to dislodge the Seeker. Thundercracker went flying, and his dagger went with him, sending a trail of energon arcing through the air. He managed to get his feet under him before he hit the ground, just in time to dodge Megatron's furious charge.

Gasping, curled around his bleeding arm, Skyfire watched the fight unfold. Thundercracker seemed small next to Megatron's bulk, but he was fast. The small blade gave Thundercracker an edge as he twisted around his opponent's attacks, but the advantage of surprise was fading. Thundercracker was good, but he was still a Seeker. His frame wasn't built for ground combat, and he was up against one of the best fighters alive.

Skyfire looked up, searching the skies, but he couldn’t see Skywarp or Starscream. Thundercracker was alone. It was easier to separate himself from Starscream’s emotions now, though the Seeker struggled against him as Skyfire rebuilt the wall between them. Starscream wasn’t here. Skyfire prayed he was safe.

Skyfire refused to lay there, helpless, and hope Thundercracker won. So, with his useless arm cradled against his chest, Skyfire slowly, painfully forced himself back to his feet. His remaining arm almost gave out when he put weight on it, but he made it, swaying slightly where he stood. Pain still roared up his arm, but he didn't let it consume him again.

Thundercracker was still exchanging blows with Megatron, but he was starting to struggle. He’d lost the offensive, and he was struggling to fend off Megatron. He fumbled a block, and Megatron's fist landed square on Thundercracker’s chest, sending him flying. He slammed into one of the cliffs wing first. The leading edge crumpled, and Thundercracker fell to the ground. The Seeker lay there for only a moment before struggling back to his feet, but his movements were jerky and uncoordinated. Skyfire recognized the signs of minor processer damage.

Megatron was in no hurry as he sauntered to where he'd thrown the Seeker. On the way, he stooped to pick up his discarded energon sword, shaking off the energon that still colored the blade.

Skyfire knew that Megatron wasn't going to toy with the Seeker like he had with Skyfire. Thundercracker wasn't some no-named grunt who'd survived more by luck than skill. He was a veteran and a former Officer. Megatron wouldn't give him a chance to get away; he was going to deactivate Thundercracker.

Skyfire couldn't let that happen.

His knee cried out when he stepped forward, but he kept moving. He didn't stop until he was standing between the two mecha, blocking Megatron's path. His broken knee barely supported his weight, and his stump was tucked uselessly against his side. He could barely stand, let alone fight. None of that showed on his face as he met Megatron's optics.

"Skyfire, don't you dare," Thundercracker said from behind him. "Get out of the way." His speech was slightly slurred. Skyfire ignored him.

Megatron, surprisingly, stopped his advance instead of swatting Skyfire out of the way. It wouldn't have even taken any effort.

"You are a fool," Megatron said. His sword was held loosely in his hands, like an afterthought.

"Maybe," Skyfire conceded. "But I'm no coward."

Nothing on Earth or Cybertron could convince him to step aside and watch while someone deactivated one of his Seekers. He would not step aside. Even if it only bought Thundercracker an extra breem, it would be worth it.

Megatron had just taken another step forward when Skyfire noticed a strange noise getting steadily louder. His optics flickered upwards, and Skyfire realized what it was: engines. Seeker engines, to be precise, that belonged to the small purple speck moving rapidly towards them.

Skywarp. Finally. It had taken him long enough to answer the call of his Trinemate’s spark. Megatron had seen him too. Their optics met.

Megatron attacked so fast Skyfire barely saw him move. Skyfire managed to get his arms up to protect his major vitals-his neck and spark chamber-but the sword swung lower, catching him below his arms.

The blade slid in through the plating near his waist with enough force to break through the thick armor. It curved upwards, through his side and towards his chest before stopping, buried in the thickest armor that protected his spark chamber.

There was no pain at first. Just the strange, burning pressure against his internals and the sight of Megatron's triumphant optics. The Warlord was close enough to touch if Skyfire’s arms hadn't been frozen in place.

Megatron didn't have time for another hit. Skywarp arrived first. Purple smoke blocked Skyfire’s vision, and Megatron cursed as he turned to meet the Seeker. Skyfire heard fighting, but it was as if the sounds reached him from a distance. He sank down to his knees, staring down at the broad expanse of metal protruding from his chest. One shaking hand reached down to brush against the place where the blade disappeared into his chest. It came away stained with energon.

That's when the pain hit.

He swayed on suddenly weak limbs, almost falling over before catching himself. The sword was still sticking out of his chest—was _inside_ him—and landing on it wouldn't be a good idea. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to yank the blade out of him—Primus, _please_ , just get it out—but even in his pain-addled state he knew how bad of an idea that was.

He snapped out of the haze when a hand landed on his shoulder. Skyfire jerked with surprise, which sent a fresh wave of pain through his frame. He had to offline his optics, and the hand retracted with an apology. He recognized Thundercracker’s voice through the pain. It took far too much effort to online his optics again.

Thundercracker was kneeling beside him, his horrified optics locked on the blade in his side. His hands hovered over the sword. His optics darted back up then softened in relief when he saw the Shuttle was coherent again. Thundercracker’s optics still shone too brightly, a sign of lingering damage, but he seemed steady on his feet again.

Behind Thundercracker’s worried face, Skyfire could see the fighting frames of Megatron and Skywarp. Skywarp was good, but he couldn’t hold off Megatron for long. He needed help. He needed Thundercracker. Together, they might be a match for Megatron.

"Go," Skyfire bit out. "Help him; I'll be fine."

It was only half a lie. The sword seemed to have missed any major parts, but he was losing energon at a frightening rate. Torn, Thundercracker glanced between them before reluctantly turning away.

"I'll be back," he said, and he was gone.

Skyfire heard as Thundercracker joined his Trinemate in the fight, but lifting his head seemed to take an impossible amount of energy. Every time he tried to concentrate, his focus seemed to drift away. Skyfire reached out, looking for something to hold onto, and he found the bond. The wall from earlier was crumbling, and he could feel Starscream on the other side.

Skyfire reached out, and the reaction was instantaneous. Starscream’s panic clawed at his spark and overwhelmed his thoughts. He barely managed to stay upright, though it was getting hard to remember why he needed to. He exhaled, and the sound transformed into a soft whimper of pain.

Skyfire latched onto his bondmate's spark, borrowing his strength as much as he could. Even with the bond wide open, it could only help so much. His processer drifted away until Starscream brought him back to himself with a sharp demand. Coherency returned with a jolt and a sickening twist of fear. He couldn't let himself drift away. Not here. Not now, when the battle still raged nearby.

The blade was still stuck in his side. It needed to come out. Just thinking about it made the pain flare up, but he couldn't leave the blade in there. Reaching down, he grasped the weapon and bit back a scream as he started to pull.

-/-

He got it out.

Later, he wouldn't remember how. The memory was a disjointed jumble of agony, determination, and Starscream driving him forward, but he did it. He got it out. Then he collapsed, offline.

-/-

Consciousness swam in and out. He did what he could in his more lucid moments, activating programs to seal off broken lines and numb sensors. Most of the time, he could only curl around Starscream's spark and accept the panic-tinged comfort he offered.

He tried to sit up once. He didn't make that mistake again.

Occasionally, figures drifted across his field of vision. He saw Thundercracker, fighting despite a twisted wing. Megatron, bleeding from several injuries. Later, he saw more Grounders running in. Jazz was with them. It was getting harder to focus on what was happening. Harder to keep his optics online. 

Then Thundercracker was there, hovering above him. His form wavered in and out of Skyfire's vision, and Skyfire could feel hands on his plating. Eventually, Skywarp joined his Trinemate. They were saying something Skyfire couldn’t understand. He was lying in something wet and faintly sticky. Energon. It covered the ground below him, and more streaked his plating.

Someone new thump down beside him. Even through the haze, Skyfire felt as his main medical port was pried open and a strong presence bloomed in his processer. Automatic safeguards had his processer trying to react, but they were easily brushed aside.

He recognized a medic's touch running through his processer, taking control of his sensor net and activating new programs. Skyfire blurrily forced his optics online to see a red and white blur hovering over him. Ratchet. Of course—what other medic would have bothered?

His optics couldn’t seem to focus, and they soon flickered back offline. He managed guide Ratchet deeper into his processor, but that seemed to be the extent of his strength. He could feel himself drifting away. The pain and all sensation from his frame faded until he was only holding onto Starscream's spark.

Then there was nothing at all for a long time.

~.*.~


End file.
